How the Cats Play
by willwrite4fics
Summary: While Hogan is away, an evil German Heer officer arrives to play his own personal games. Will Newkirk survive the games? Will the camp survive the experience? Warning for some mild violence and suggestions of abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Same disclaimer, I don't own Hogan's guys, I just borrow them and promise to return them in fair-to-middling condition most of the time... This will be my first full length story in the Hogan's Heroes fandom posted and I would love feedback. I promise to respond to all SIGNED reviews, please remember that I cannot respond to anonymous/guest reviews, although those are just as welcome! I do not promise to change anything, but I do listen.

For Hogan lovers, there will be a distinct LACK of Hogan until the end. Sorry if that's a little bit of a spoiler, but I don't want to disappoint readers who only want to read about Hogan. I like him too! I promise, he'll be around for other stories. ALL of the OCs in the story are completely made up, as I don't want to use any real names or places(with the exception of canon people/places used in the show episodes).

Disclaimer: There will be violence, implied abuse and tense situations. I did try to keep it as tame as possible while still telling the story. Also, sorry for the lame title, I suck at thinking up titles.

Huge thanks to my beloved beta TinySprite who helped me with feedback and suggestions and to Bits and Pieces who encouraged me so much. Also, to my friend River who listened to me babble plots. You're all awesome!

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Chapter One

Whereupon Hogan has left camp for Underground business, leaving his Heroes in charge but a German officer comes to camp on his own sordid business.

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"Roll call! Everyone line up, hurry up! Raus! Roll call!" Schultz shooed the men out of the barracks into the cold. The men of barracks Two filed out, harassing Schultz the entire time. Newkirk smirked at the whole group as he took the end spot. With Hogan out of camp, Kinch took over the leadership but Newkirk was the one shoved out in front. The POWs had rather gleefully ignored rank and elected him as the figurehead, much to the Cockney's chagrin. To the Germans, Newkirk was the temporary senior prisoner, but the prisoners all knew that Kinch was in charge.

"Settle down, guys." said Kinch quietly. The ruckus died out within a minute. He watched Newkirk snorting with amusement. They all were huddling inside coats and jackets waiting for the head count to be done. All of the main crew were under extra stress with the Colonel gone. Officially he had been taken off for questioning by the Abwehr. Unofficially the Underground had sent a operative to take him out of the camp so he could meet with some Allied higher ups for a briefing on something the High Command wanted done soon. Unofficially, his men were all on edge with him out of the camp and therefor out of their sight. To say they were protective over the Colonel was to make a gross understatement. As usual, for security reasons, much of the camp was in the dark about the Abwehr being fakes, leading to even more tension than normal.

To add to the command team's discomfort, Klink had a high ranking visitor roaming about causing issues. The German Army Major-General was overly fond of pushing the prisoners about on the slightest excuse. Major-General Hendrich had brushed aside Klink's objections several times already. His excuses ranged from innocence of having touched the prisoner to made-up offenses on the part of his victims. Kinch spread the order to keep away from the German Army officer as much as was possible. Newkirk ran interference with several other prisoners, moving less experienced prisoners away and keeping themselves available as targets but generally out of range of actual physical contact. Olson got knocked down once, but the general fuss and confusion that resulted somehow separated Hendrich and his two bodyguards from Olson before anything else happened. When the dust settled, the POWs had dispersed to other activities or into the barracks innocently, leaving the Germans standing alone.

The unrest resulting in the POW population had the regular Luftwaffe stalag guards all on edge, which made Klink on edge. The kommandant disliked anything that upset the routine of the stalag, especially anything that upset his prisoners and made them more unruly. Unruly prisoners tried to escape. Unruly prisoners rioted. The guards were all used to their normal tame prisoners. Kinch had been on the move constantly, trying to make sure to touch base with each of the barracks' chiefs. Carter circulated through the camp, chatting up both prisoners who were more stressed over the situation and guards who appeared nervy over the unhappy prisoners. His normal cheery nature helped to soothe the worst cases. Newkirk made more of an effort to engage both guards and prisoners in card tricks and entertained the surly guards with magic tricks and truly horrible jokes in equally horrible German. His poker games were more upbeat with joking and wild stories of past amorous encounters with ladies.

By the time evening roll call was called, the POWs were all on edge, ranging from annoyed to downright frightened. The command crew were looking forward to getting everyone back inside the relative safety of the barracks for the night. All of them were more used to the majority of their "work" happening at night, during missions outside of the wire. Spending the days doing damage control inside the wire wasn't normal. Doing any work inside the wire without Colonel Hogan around to spearhead the tactics was decidedly abnormal.

Klink began his normal long-winded speech while the visiting Major-General stalked down the rows of prisoners. Having been frustrated during the entire afternoon with prisoners who disappeared whenever he came near, he was now looking for any opportunities.

Newkirk sighed and rolled his eyes at the others. With Hogan gone, it seemed that Klink was nervous about the prisoners getting restless and perhaps attempting escapes. Personally at this point, Newkirk felt that the speeches of how hopeless the Allied war effort was were probably making the prisoner population more likely to engage in schemes. Annoyed bored prisoners were not only more dangerous to the Germans, but also harder for Kinch and the Heroes to control.

Klink raised his voice stridently to carry throughout the compound. "The Allies are already defeated! The sooner that your leaders recognize the superior might of our German forces, the sooner you can all go home!"

Newkirk raised his own voice. "Well, maybe we ought to just go 'ome now? Get a jump on things before the rush, Kommandant?" His sarcasm made Klink's face turn red. "Of course, could be your reports are a bit inaccurate, considering how few Luftwaffe planes we see limping back overhead every day." He smirked as raucous laughter broke out. He hoped the smart remarks would release some of the tension of the prisoners who had already begun to mutter in the ranks.

Major-General Hendrich rushed to confront the temporary Senior POW. "There is no talking in the ranks, you English dog!" The German loomed over the smaller man, forcing Newkirk to tilt his head back to look him in the face. "You will keep your mouth shut when your betters are speaking!"

He knew it was a bad idea. The smart idea would involve shutting up or giving the Kraut an apologetic 'yes sir' to pacify him.

Newkirk wasn't often accused of being sensible in these situations. Even as his mouth opened, Kinch groaned behind him.

Eyes narrowed, Newkirk spoke carefully. "When my betters show up, I'll consider that. I just see a big mouth Kraut."

Although it was blatantly pushing his luck, even Newkirk was surprised when Hendrich punched him in the side of the head. Before he could go down, the German grabbed him and slung him out into the center of the compound. "Filthy cur. You seem to want to talk. We shall oblige you." A motion brought one of the hulking bodyguards over at a trot. "Take him to the guest quarters. I will question him about the proper behavior of a POW towards his superiors."

Kinch stepped forward slightly. "Kommandant! I protest, Corporal Newkirk cannot be questioned without his Senior Officer present." His eyes followed the bodyguard half dragging their friend across the yard. "Additionally, he is a prisoner of the Luftwaffe and shouldn't be subject to questioning from a German Army officer."

Klink waffled. Hendrich outranked him and had already made it clear that he would use that rank to get his way. Klink made a token effort to dissuade him. "Sir, with Colonel Hogan out of the camp, Corporal Newkirk has been appointed the representative of the prisoners. He is needed elsewhere, so it would not be in the best interest of the security of Stalag 13 to allow you to hold him for questioning..."

"Klink, shut up. I'm not removing any of your precious prisoners. Corporal Newkirk will be on the grounds, so there's no issue." Hendrich sent an evil grin at the residents of Barracks 2. There was a rumble of protest from all of the nearer ranks of prisoners that made Klink blanch.

The unhappy noises from the prisoners made Newkirk focus. He twisted in the grip of the bodyguard and held up a palm towards Kinch. The gesture for everyone to stop and quiet down was seen by most and the grumbling subsided. He got his feet underneath himself and jerked out of the guard's hands. "I can bloody well walk on me own." He sent a glare towards Klink for allowing it but went along with a minimum of pushing.

Major-General Hendrich smirked at the impotence of both fellow prisoners and kommandant before stalking along to the guest quarters behind his guard and Newkirk. His second guard followed along behind carefully watching the prisoners. Klink paced after him for a few feet before hesitating and then returning to dismiss the formations and go back into his offices.

Kinch was immediately surrounded by anxious prisoners. Carter was at his elbow. "Kinch! We can't let them do that! He might hurt Newkirk! That's not right!"

Olson snorted loudly at Carter. "What do you mean 'might'? Newkirk'll be lucky to walk out alive. That Kraut will beat him to death! Let's go get him back!" He was jostled by several others that were all agreeing with him.

Kinch raised his voice just enough to be heard. "Enough, guys." He paused for everyone to shut up. "We can't do anything. Newkirk knew better and he seemed confident he would be okay when they took him."

LeBeau muttered in French before erupting angrily. "Oui! They'll make him tea! Why should we worry? He just insulted the bastard to his face in front of everyone! Of course they'll hurt him."

"Settle down, LeBeau." Kinch stared the little Frenchman down. When he finally looked away muttering, Kinch continued. "There's no doubt he'll be roughed up. But we can't make a German Major-General and his guards disappear from the middle of camp without endangering the entire operation. What then? Colonel Hogan isn't even here, and what happens to him when the Gestapo is waiting for him to return to Stalag 13 because the prisoner population is gone along with a German Heer Major-General and his bodyguards?" He waited as everyone muttered unhappily about his facts. "Everyone needs to step back and calm down. Hendrich isn't likely to murder a Luftwaffe prisoner here in the camp. Newkirk knows how to placate Kraut officers, he's survived camps for years doing it."

Carter wrung his hands. "But Kinch, we don't even have a tap in the guest quarters. How are we going to know what's going on?" His anxiety seemed to catch and others began to ask similar questions.

"We won't, but we can find out which of the stalag guards is going to be watching the guest quarters. If it's Langenscheidt or Schultz, maybe we can get them to keep an ear out at least. Also..." Kinch inhaled and looked at the still angry Olson. "If you can tell me honestly that you can keep yourself under control, I want you to get close to the building and try to keep tabs on what's going on. You're not to enter the guest quarters or be discovered under any circumstances... "

Olson straightened up and nodded. "I can do it. I can be right outside where the lights don't reach. It's hard to hear much through the walls, but it's better than being all the way across the compound."

Before he could move, Schultz came trundling over to begin shooing them inside. "Everyone inside the barracks, raus, please boys, inside the barracks, back back back..."

There was a lot more grumbling and angry mutters directed at Schultz than normal. He leaned back and moaned at their complaints. "Please! I cannot do anything! I know nothing!"

LeBeau shoved his way to right in front of the rotund guard. "Schultz! You know they're hurting him! Newkirk does lots of things for you! You could at least try to help him!" He was moved along towards the barrack's entrance as Schultz continued to wave all of the inhabitants inside. "Schultz, s'il vous plait! Please! Bitte Schultz!"

"Nein! Cockroach, I cannot! If I could..." He waved him inside sadly. "I cannot."

LeBeau gave in. "Fine Schultz, next time you need help, non! Nothing from me! Bosche!" He spat angrily even as Schultz rolled his eyes and walked around the barracks counting heads. When he got to fifteen and sighed, his gaze went to Kinch.

The tall radioman crossed his arms and leveled a glare on their guard. "If you want to count Newkirk's head, you know where he is. Hopefully he still has that head attached."

Schultz gave him a reproachful look. "Please, don't even joke about that, Sergeant Kinchloe."

"Who's joking?" Kinch walked over quietly, highly aware of the eyes following him. "Listen Schultz, we're all worried about Newkirk. You know he didn't mean nothing by all that talk."

"I know but... " Schultz lowered his voice. "But I can not _do_ anything to help him. You _know_ that. I am just a sergeant." He looked ashamed but also worried. "You know I would never hurt anyone, but I can not go against orders and I can not tell a Major-General what to do." He straightened up and rocked back on his heels. "I have to go now."

"Wait, Schultz..." Kinch stepped up next to him now so he could speak quietly. "There's always a camp guard on the guest quarters, right?"

"Ja, on the porch, always." Schultz agreed readily.

"Well, couldn't that be you? Then you could kind of look out for Newkirk, you'd be right there, right?" Kinch put on his best pleading expression. "We're not asking you to go barging in and rescue him, just be there in case there's something you can do to help him? Please, Schultz? Come on. Haven't we always looked after you? Who shares his Red Cross packages every time? Isn't it Newkirk?"

"Ja..." Schultz thought it over and then gave one short nod. "Ja, I can stand watch on the porch." He held up a cautioning finger to stop the outbursts. "But! Just on the porch, nothing more. Only because you are all such good boys... most of the time." He went to the door and gave one last sly look at them. "When you are not up to monkey business."

"Danke Schultz." Kinch was all smiles as the guard shut the door behind himself. The moment it clicked shut, Olson was ducking down into the tunnels to head for the closest exit point to the guest quarters. "Be careful Olson."

"I will." Olson disappeared and the bunk slid shut again.

Kinch stood for a few seconds before turning around to gesture at everyone. "All right, everyone hit the sack. I know... but sitting up in the dark isn't going to help anyone." He watched everyone reluctantly go to bed even as he shut down the lights. Then he settled next to the window to keep watch as best he could. The small crack in the window shutters allowed him to see a blurry view of the building across the compound. Kinch couldn't spot where Olson would be crouched behind some shrubs, which was good. It meant the man was less likely to be spotted by Germans too.

Taking a deep breath in, Kinchloe let it out slowly and tried to relax. Things like this situation were a job hazard they all faced. It never made things any easier, no matter how many times it happened.

"Kinch?" The urgent whisper from the bunk next to the window made him turn to peer through the gloom for Carter. "Kinch? He'll be okay, right?"

"Sure, Carter. Not Newkirk's first rodeo, right?" Kinch reassured the younger American easily. It was true that it wasn't the first time their resident Brit had gotten himself into trouble. Between his inability to curb his tongue and his hidden need to protect his friends, Newkirk seemed to end up in front of angry Germans far more often than anyone else. Once Colonel Hogan had arrived in the camp and taken control, that had lessened just a little bit. There was a restless movement from the bunk and Kinch turned back to speak quietly. "Go to sleep Carter, I'm staying up for him."

"Okay." There was hesitation from Carter. "But wake me up if he needs help when he gets back, okay?"

"Sure." Kinch couldn't help his smile. Carter might be a little naive but he worried over his friends as well. "I know where to find you."

Then he went back to his self-imposed watch. Kinch wished that Colonel Hogan was in camp. It wasn't that the trio hadn't dealt with these incidents in the past before Hogan arrived. It was just that Hogan had an innate ability to make his men trust that things would always turn out right in the end. Now all Kinch could do was to watch and hope.

End chapter

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Sooo first chapter is up. A note, my research says a Major-General in the German Army(Heer) would be below General Burkhalter, but above Colonel Klink, although it IS still a different branch of the German military. Technically speaking, he should not be interfering in Luftwaffe business, but he does still outrank Klink and a great deal of German officers did a great deal of things they technically should not be doing. Just like the German officers who strong-armed Klink into agreeing to donate a lot more money than Klink could afford on the show, or the German officer blackmailing Hogan for a million dollars worth of diamonds on the show... there were plenty of evil German officers about during the war.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter includes some violence. Fair warning. Thank you as always to my beta TinySprite who is made from awesomeness.

I will try to be updating about once a week.

Thank you to all the people who left reviews. I appreciate every single one.

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CHAPTER 2

Half an hour into his "discussion" in the German guest quarters, Newkirk was finally beginning to regret his quips. Even if it did restore some of the prisoners' self-control and pride to see their captors taken down a peg or two, getting pummeled while unable to fight back wasn't something he'd ever managed to do gracefully.

"So does the Englander have anything to say _now_?" Hendrich was beginning to breathe hard at least.

Newkirk took a few seconds to breathe himself. At this point he was sagging in the grip of Otto, the larger of the bodyguards. The just slightly smaller bodyguard stood next to the door looking so bored that Newkirk knew this wasn't the first time Hendrich had pulled this sort of abuse off. Hendrich was taking no chances of his chosen POW giving out any retaliation. Even though Newkirk as a POW couldn't fight back to even abuse without risking being shot for aggression, Hendrich had his minion pinning the prisoner's arms behind him. Otto seemed to know exactly how to twist to get the maximum of leverage and pain out of his hold.

After a moment, Newkirk lifted his face, telling himself to apologize and get it over with. "Sod off, you Kraut bastard." Well, or just let his Cockney temper flare. That was a great tactic too. The next few punches to his face loosened a tooth. They also made him gray out to the point that it startled him when the blows switched to his ribs again.

"Please..." His voice cracked slightly and he told himself it was a great effect, not weakness. Swallowing, he coughed a spray of blood onto the rug before continuing. "Please, stop. Sorry... I'm sorry." His pride stung but honestly, the pain from the beating covered up that little sting quite nicely. If he had the brains God gave a rutabaga, he would have realized this would be the result well before this point. "I... apologize for.. for my r-rude comments during formation. Please..."

Hendrich considered that for a moment. His hands flexed inside the fine leather gloves. As he stepped back and paced the floor back and forth in front of Newkirk, the Brit kept his eyes on the rug and tried to project his abject misery. He'd misjudged this particular German Army officer truly. Newkirk had expected him to relegate the physical punishment to his underlings, not carry it out himself. He was a very able-bodied officer too. Most officers that made it to Major-General weren't in good enough condition to carry on with a fight beyond a few minutes. Not that this was a fight, per se. It was all one-sided.

The boots approached again and Newkirk artfully cringed. In his experience, if he showed he was beaten, they'd give in. All most Nazis wanted was to dominate properly and then they'd back off. If he himself wasn't so damned stiff-necked about it, this would have been over much earlier.

A rough hand gripped his bruised jaw and yanked his face up. "Say it properly." The voice still sounded angry.

Swallowing what little was left of his pride, Newkirk gazed right back into those gloating eyes. "I apologize, herr General." Keeping his voice soft and frightened was an effort when he wanted to spit the words at the Kraut.

The pleasure showed in Hendrich's expression. He looked over Newkirk's shoulder at his underling. "See Otto? And you said Englanders couldn't be tamed so easily."

Otto took this personally enough to tighten his hold on Newkirk's arms, causing him to let out a cry of pain. That seemed to satisfy him however and he let up on the extra pressure. "Yes Major-General Hendrich, of course, you are more knowledgeable about these things."

Hendrich gave a last slap to his victim's face. "Take him outside to the guard. I'm finished with him tonight." He sighed sounding rather pleased with himself. "Perhaps tomorrow we can let Jager pick out another POW with as much spirit."

The second bodyguard, Jager straightened up more and gave a nod. "Jawohl, herr Major-General. There are many pigs to choose from here."

Newkirk felt his heart freeze. His head twisted around to glare fiercely. "Leave them alone."

Hendrich turned back from where he'd already gone to the sideboard to pour himself brandy. "Oh, it seems he's not completely broken?" Coming back slowly, he sipped at the delicate glass as he looked Newkirk over. "We shall see. Otto? Outside with the dog, he's mussed the rug up enough."

Otto nodded his head sharply and jerked the smaller man upright by his pinned arms. "Come, raus." Taking him out the door to the guest quarters, he gave one last shove that sent Newkirk sprawling down the steps into the light cover of snow. "Major-General Hendrich is finished questioning the prisoner. Return him to his barracks." With a snap of his fingers to the stalag guard, Otto returned to inside, slamming the door loudly.

Lying in the snow, Newkirk simply rested a moment, wondering how miserable he'd feel if he just slept there instead of having to get back to his feet to cross the compound. When someone took him by his upper arm to start tugging him up to his feet, he tried to jerk away. "Leave off."

"Nein, up up! Come, back to the barracks." Schultz tried to be gentle as he helped the troublesome British prisoner to his feet. "Come Newkirk, you must go back to the barracks now."

"Give a bloke a minute, Schultzy, I've 'ad a rough evening." Struggling to his knees, Newkirk paused and let Schultz lift him the rest of the way to his feet. "Blimey, I 'urt everywhere."

"Ja, you were foolish. Insulting a major-general!" Schultz chided him, making soft tcching noises of reproach.

"Yeah, take 'is bloody side, Schultz. Makes it right for 'im to beat me bloody when I can't even defend meself." Newkirk complained softly to the big guard. "Bloody great bullies, that's what the lot of you Germans are. Beating prisoners, you just wait. I'll put a complaint in with the Red Cross against the whole sodding lot of you."

"Newkirk, shush." Schultz held him up as he stumbled across the compound. He knew the young man was just venting over his ill treatment and didn't really blame Schulz for it. Schultz had never struck a prisoner in the entire time he'd been at Stalag 13. "Quiet and just go inside and try not to make any more fuss, ja? No trouble."

"Tell me not to make trouble, when I'm the one getting beat up." Newkirk's grumbling continued, although at a greatly reduced volume. "See if I bail you out of any more jams, then."

"Ja, Newkirk, here, go inside. Please, do not say things tomorrow that will make the Major-General angry." Schultz gave him a last pat as he opened the barrack's door.

Newkirk snorted in reply as he walked in, reaching out to feel for the bunk by the door. A hand took him by the elbow out of the dark, causing him to jump and swear softly. Kinch's voice made him sag in relief. "I'm okay." The hand steered him towards Hogan's empty quarters however. "I just want to lie down..." whispered Newkirk softly.

"Right after I make sure you're okay." Kinch firmly escorted him into the room and shut the door quietly. After a few seconds, an oil light flared to life, casting a dim light through the room. "Let's see. How bad is it?"

"I'm bloody well fine." Newkirk kept to the shadowed part of the room, turning his face to keep Kinch from looking at him too closely. "If I wanted a nanny, I'd wake up Carter."

"You'd better be glad I didn't wake him up." Kinch drew him closer to the lamp and hissed at the bruises already showing. "Anything broken?"

"Me pride?" Newkirk quipped. "Possibly a rib or three?" He shook his head gingerly. "It's not too bad. I'll just be colorful a few days. Won't be playing any of you Yanks' 'football' anytime soon."

"Well that's good, you suck at American football." Kinch motioned to his shirt which Newkirk reluctantly lifted for him to check his ribs. "I think you're right, at least one broken." He probed carefully, gauging the damage both from the feel and the reaction of pain. Stepping back, he looked the Cockney in the eye. "Are _you_ okay?"

Newkirk glanced aside, knowing that action alone was giving himself away. "I'll be fine. It's not the first time. 'ow many times 'ave the Gestapo 'auled me off for a nice little chat now?" He tugged his shirt back into place with a wince.

"Yeah but this isn't the Gestapo." Kinch sighed lightly at him. "Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, give a bloke a boost up into 'is bunk?" Newkirk grinned rakishly, if a bit lopsidedly. "I don't much fancy the climb 'onestly."

"Sure. Want me to roust Carter out of his bunk? You could take the lower one for the night?" Kinch blew out the lamp as they left the room.

"No. Carter will just raise a fuss and then fall out onto me 'ead first thing in the morning." Newkirk felt his way through the darkness to his bunk. When a hand grabbed him by the pant's leg, he jerked violently away. "Bloody 'ell! Andrew!"

"Sorry." Carter sounded contrite. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay." There was a bit of noise as he shifted about in the bunk.

"I was before you gave me a bleeding 'eart attack." Despite the minor fright, Newkirk reached down to give his friend a reassuring pat. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

A voice came from across the room carrying both a sleepy tone and a French accent. "Are you really okay or are you just saying that to cover that you're hurt?"

Huffing in irritation, Newkirk felt about for Kinch's supporting hand and put his ankle into it. "Up?" As he was lifted, he got himself into the upper bunk and very carefully laid down, trying to find the least painful spot to lie on. "Thanks Kinch." He spoke quietly to LeBeau. "I'm fine, mum. Go to sleep."

"Fine... you'd say you were fine even if your leg was missing." There was a creak as LeBeau began to climb off his bunk.

Kinch coughed softly. "LeBeau, I already checked him over, he'll be okay. You can fuss over him in the morning. Right now, everyone go back to sleep. Morning will be here soon enough." He bent to speak to the bunk underneath Newkirk. "Carter? You might have to help him down in the morning. Don't let him fall on his stubborn English skull, okay?"

"Charming, Kinch, bloody charming." came from the upper slot.

Carter agreed. "Sure. I would have let him sleep in my bunk."

"I tried, he didn't want to." Kinch made his way across the room to his own bunk and rolled up into the blankets. Even though he'd ordered everyone to sleep, he could hear very soft whispers for a while before it quieted down completely. A long time after that, he finally fell asleep himself.

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End Chapter

Sorry Newkirk.

Thank you for reading and please feel free to review.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the many responses and reviews.A special thanks for a PM that pointed out that "Raus" is incorrect for moving the POWs into the barracks from the outside. That led to a fascinating bit of research and more knowledge which I always love! Thank you to the guest reviewers! I can't respond personally if you're not signed in to the site, but I certainly loved each of your reviews!

To clarify, Newkirk is not REALLY the MOC. The POWs know Kinch is really in charge, they just elected a 'stooge' to stand up front for the Germans. With all of Newkirk's pranks, I figure the other POWs would happily paint a target on him for the humor, not knowing of course what ends up being in store for him.

Again thanks go to TinySprite for her endless patience with me. And apologies to Newkirk, sorry old chap, I'll send tea.

This is an incredibly long chapter, I apologize.

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Chapter 3

The next morning began with Kinch and Carter all but lifting Newkirk down from his bunk. Every bruise had stiffened during the night and the complaints were loud and numerous. His face was swollen and discolored although Carter tried to cheer him up by pointing out that neither eye was _completely_ swollen shut. Newkirk had requested that someone thump Carter at that point, Olson obliging him with a smile.

Sipping rather gingerly at a cup of hot coffee, Newkirk settled at their table after roll call. Hendrich had smirked at the sight of his victim while the prisoners muttered darkly. Putting on a show of nonchalance, Newkirk had made certain to exchange grins all around with the other barracks. Once they were dismissed, he sauntered about to chat with other prisoners making jokes about his 'state of disrepair' to make everyone believe it looked worse than it really was. LeBeau shadowed him to one side, keeping people from accidentally bumping into his hidden injuries to his ribs. After several minutes, Newkirk pretended to see a summons from Kinch over at the barracks and excused himself.

Now he could sit in peace and try to control the nausea from the pain. His face throbbed in beat with his pulse and there was no comfortable way to sit or move with the damaged rib. His hands stayed busy with his oldest deck of cards, shuffling them back and forth and pulling random cards out before returning them. If he dropped the occasional pull from the bottom of the deck, no one pointed it out to him and he ignored it.

When Carter brought in their medic, Newkirk barely made a token protest before being ushered into the office for an exam. For once, Newkirk was candid about most of the injuries and submitted to his ribs being taped up gladly. The extra support helped lessen the misery and he thanked Wilson.

The medic pretended to be stunned. "You usually have to be at death's door to admit you're hurting." He put away the few supplies he had. "If you start feeling congested in your lungs or get blurry vision, send someone for me. I doubt those ribs have damaged a lung, but it's possible and if you move wrong, it could still happen." He pointed at Newkirk's face. "Try a cool wet cloth for the bruises. I'll try to scare up some aspirin for you if it's really bad but we're short of everything."

"I'm okay." He very obviously was not okay but if there was nothing available to help, it did no good to make Wilson feel more guilty over it.

Carter continued to hover near the door and Newkirk finally turned enough to look at him. "What?"

"Nothing!" Carter shifted his feet nervously and then looked at his friend. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

"No Carter..." Newkirk began to snap irritably. Then he stopped and pushed back the irrational annoyance he was feeling. "Sorry, I'm just cranky, mate."

"It's okay. I understand." Carter suddenly beamed at him. "If you put up with me when I'm sick, I can put up with you when you're hurt, right?"

LeBeau poked his head in to smirk. "Oui, but then we also have to put up with Newkirk when he is sick, and hurt and we all know that he gets hurt much more often than the rest of us. He's just clumsy that way." He disappeared before the stray boot impacted next to his head. "Oh so cranky!" came from the other room, the laughter evident in the tone.

"Ruddy frog." His friend making fun of him somehow made everything feel better. If LeBeau could make a joke about Newkirk's injuries, then those injuries were not serious and didn't hurt so much. Maybe it made no logical sense but after the years spent in ridiculously horrible conditions and enduring brutal treatment, the two friends ran with what worked.

Kinch met him in the main barracks as Wilson left. "You gonna live?"

"Yeah." Newkirk settled himself gingerly at the table. "I'll walk the compound in a bit." LeBeau brought him tea and bread. "Thanks little mate." His constant shifting to try to find a comfortable position with his ribs made LeBeau sit down next to him. "I'm fine, don't fuss."

"Oui, you look fine." LeBeau hesitated. "Did you let Wilson wrap your ribs?" At the affirmative grunt, he continued. "You should lie down for a while."

"Can't." Newkirk had to pause a moment while swallowing bread. "I'm the official Man of Confidence, remember? I have to be out and about. I've also got to take a list to Klink too. Kind of wish that could wait, I'm no good at jollying stuff out of Klink like the Colonel is." He tucked the last bite of bread into his mouth.

Carter sat across from him. "What list?" He reached for a little bit of crust that was leftover from the piece of bread.

Newkirk's hand snatched the crust from under his fingers. A second later, the Brit offered it to him with a sheepish look. "Sorry, habit."

"No, that's okay." When Newkirk insisted, Carter took the bite of bread and broke it in two to share. "Thanks."

"Sorry. Uhh, it's a list of requests from the men. Mostly it's Red Cross stuff, boots for a few of the guys, replacement blankets for them what got burned during that last fire. We really should have a chat with everyone about distractions too. Fires are great diversions but the guys need to make sure they don't burn irreplaceable things like blankets."

Kinch walked over to pour himself coffee. "I'll bring that up at the barracks' chiefs' meeting." He sighed heavily as he took a seat at the table with them. "I'm sorry you got tagged with this, Newkirk. If the Krauts didn't have such a hard time accepting me, I'd do it."

"Can't help Germans being German, mate." Newkirk grinned, making the bruised face look rather macabre. "I just wasn't expecting to be volunteered as the senior POW. I'm just a corporal."

Carter bounced slightly. "Yeah but you're the Newkirk. Even all the Germans call you 'the' Englander. Like we only have one!" He looked down at the table and scratched at a little burn mark absently. "I couldn't do it, I wouldn't know what to do."

"You'd 'ave managed just like I am." Newkirk reassured Carter. He rubbed one hand over his hair, smoothing it and wincing when he encountered lumps and bruises. "Kinch? What else do I 'ave to do for the day?" He pulled out his pack of cigarettes to light one up.

Kinch got up to retrieve his clipboard and flipped a couple pages about. "Well, go see Klink, try for those blankets for sure. You also have to go check out tools for the work party to repair the roof on Barracks 8." He hummed absently to himself. "I'll check on the progress in the tunnels, inspect the forgers latest efforts at Bavarian papers and double-check the reports from the Underground."

Carter made a small noise. "Well, why isn't Newkirk doing those things?"

Kinch hesitated. "Well, for one thing, Newkirk is pretty beat up and probably needs some time to rest up..."

Newkirk spoke up then, interrupting Kinch. "And secondly, I'm not in charge. Kinch is in charge. I'm just a figurehead for the bloody Krauts. Don't forget that, Carter." He glared at the younger American and gave Kinch an apologetic glance. Inhaling deeply on his cigarette, he let the smoke trail out of his mouth slowly. "Kinch is better at 'andling all this camp stuff. I'd just bollacks it all up if I were in charge for real."

Kinch smiled. "Thanks. But I think you'd do just fine. You'd just panic a lot more while dealing with all of it." Even though he joked with Newkirk about it, his words of support made the black radioman feel more confident. Kinch was quite confident in his own abilities, but less confident in whether anyone else would recognize that he could do things as well as any white man, and better than some. "LeBeau, we still need two sets of civilian clothing on hand. Also, Olson said his shirt lost a sleeve on the last chase through the woods."

"Oui, he told me. I can do those all today." LeBeau finished his cup of coffee and took the cup to the sink. "Without Newkirk, it will take me most of the day though." Toweling his hands off on a scrap of fabric, he smiled at Newkirk. "It must be nice to be able to loaf about all day instead of doing real work."

Newkirk snorted lightly. "I'll trade you." Tilting his bruised face up to peer at LeBeau, he sighed heavily. "Wait, I can't see well enough to be threading needles."

LeBeau hurried to find a clean cloth and ran water over it. Bringing it over, he put it on the worst eye. "Hold this on your eye. You should have had cold cloths on your eyes."

"Ow." The mild protest came quickly as Newkirk took the cloth away. He pressed it back into place himself however. "Thank you, mum. You're right." He looked miserable. "How bad does it look? I 'aven't even looked in a mirror."

"Pretty bad." Carter bent to look closer. "Your face is all lumpy." He sat back again. "And purple all on the left side." Considering his friend who eyed him with a irritated look, Carter mused aloud. "I wonder how you ended up with so much bruising on the left side?"

Newkirk barely looked at him. "Hendrich is right-'anded."

"So?"

"So, 'e 'its mostly with 'is right 'and, right?" Newkirk suddenly reached out and smacked Carter with his right hand. "Which cheek did I slap?"

"OW!" Carter jerked away. "The left... oh." He nodded. "You could have just explained."

"I thought I did." Newkirk smirked at him. "Not that 'e don't use his left too, mind you." He got up with a wince. "I need to get over to Klink's office. Maybe if I catch 'im before it gets too late, 'e'll be in a better mood."

Kinch nodded at Carter. "You're on cleaning detail today in the kommandatur, check the outgoing mail for anything that looks like a request for leave."

"I can walk over with Newkirk!" Carter jumped to his feet with enthusiasm. "And this way I can keep an eye on you, buddy!"

Newkirk was struggling into his coat and had to stop when Carter came and helped him with it. "Carter... no, just lift the back of me coat... up Carter, not sideways." Shrugging into it finally, he reached up and settled the heavy greatcoat into place properly. "Thanks. I don't need you keeping an eye on me. I need you to do what Kinch tells you."

"But I can walk over with you though, right? I mean, we're both going over at the same time so it's okay, right?" Carter was fumbling to get the cleaning supplies out quickly. "I'm ready right now... well, just gotta grab the duster, oops, yeah, I'm ready right now!"

Newkirk was watching with some bemusement. "Okay, come along then." He opened up the door and spoke over his shoulder quietly. "Do me a favor and stay to my left side so no one runs into me busted ribs?"

Carter immediately darted around him to the left side, almost dropped the bucket and managed to smack Newkirk in the side of his head with the handle of the duster. "Sorry! Sorry! Are you okay?"

Sighing heavily, Newkirk pushed the handle away and glared. "Just blooming peachy, Carter. Try not to put out me eye on the walk over, okay?" The light bump into his head wasn't noticeable over the rest of the throbbing pain, but it was the principle of the thing.

"I said I was sorry! It was an accident!" Carter held the items in his other hand. He trotted forward a few steps to catch up and settled in just a half step behind Newkirk. "Do you think Hendrich will leave soon?"

Newkirk pulled out a fresh cigarette to light it as he thought. Even as they walked across the compound, he checked the situation. "I don't rightly know, Carter." He didn't see much out of the ordinary, a few prisoners were doing laundry near Barracks Ten, a small group were leaving the messhall and a handful of others were scattered around randomly. Newkirk had to squint to see the spotters at the corners of four different barracks were in place. They were ready to signal others that Germans were coming near. Even with Hogan out of camp, the POWs had plenty of schemes underway.

"But he can't just hang around here at Stalag 13, right? I mean, he has to go do stuff." Carter was reasoning out his idea. "If he's a Major-General, he's got duties and he should be doing fighting and stuff in the war."

Newkirk puffed on the cigarette, only half following Carter's words. "Yeah, 'e's probably on leave." The forgers had been moved to the Rec Hall, mostly because it had better light. It made the papers and passes only take half the time and the end products were better quality but it was ten times as risky. Any German guard could wander in to check on the prisoners at any time. Hogan had come up with the idea of having Russian studies and Olson and Kinch had quietly spread the idea among the guards that any Germans found in those classes might just get into trouble for being part of the class. The lookouts could alert those within of approaching guards in time for the forging to be hidden.

"Newkirk?" Carter was peering at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Refocusing, Newkirk tossed aside the cigarette butt and blinked at Carter for a few seconds. "Sorry, woolgathering, mate." His eyes went back to the Rec Hall. "I think we should suspend using the Rec Hall until Hendrich leaves. Too risky with 'im rooting around."

Carter dutifully looked at the Rec Hall as well. "Maybe. But if we stop using the Rec Hall suddenly, won't that be suspicious too?"

Humming softly as he thought, Newkirk agreed. "You're right. After you're done in the office, go ask Kinch about it. If 'e agrees, go 'ave someone start a fight in the hall, get it shut down by the guards." He smiled slightly as he tilted his head. "But make sure the forgeries are out _before_ you do that, all right?"

"Well, yeah, gee! I'm not stupid!" Carter was a little indignant. "I know better than that!"

"Sorry mate. Don't get your dander up." Amusement at his friend's expense made Newkirk chuckle slightly. They reached the kommandantur and stepped up onto the porch, nodding agreeably at the German guard who watched them carefully. Newkirk spoke first. "Acting prisoner representative Newkirk to see Kommandant Klink on camp business."

Carter spoke up brightly behind him. "I'm on cleaning detail!"

The guard glanced dutifully at Carter's cleaning supplies and nodded. "Ja."

When Newkirk entered the outer office, his demeanor changed to a meek quiet attitude. Swiping his cover off his head, he stepped towards Helga's desk. "Pardon Miss, I mean, Gutan log Fraulien Helga. Corporal Newkirk to see the Kommandant, bitte?" His mispronouncing the simple phrases still amused Helga. She seemed to regard the familiar Cockney with some fondness, much like a person would view a somewhat dimwitted spaniel at times. It was a impression that Newkirk liked to reenforce whenever possible. The more harmless he seemed, the more mischief he got away with. Somehow it was a lot harder to do now than when he was just a little lad in the streets.

Carter eyed the theatrical performance and began to empty the wastebaskets quietly. He saw Helga begin to look up at Newkirk with a smile and then watched her face change to a horrified expression. "Oh Corporal! You are hurt!"

Newkirk was startled. He hadn't thought of his macabre appearance. "It is nothing. Just a few reminders not to forget me manners." He edged back a step. The woman had actual tears in her eyes and although there was a part of him that felt a bit warm over her concern, mostly he was alarmed. Upsetting Klink's secretary would not endear him to the German officer. "Really, bitte, it is not so bad."

Carter tried to help. "Yeah, his face is just kind of purple. It's the broken ribs that _really_ hurt him!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Carter! Just flipping clean the office." He turned back to Helga who sniffled as she put a hand over her mouth. "It's really nothing. Could I see the Kommandant, please?"

She scooted around her desk to knock on Klink's door and enter. After a moment, she returned. "The Kommandant will see you now. " She looked away from the battered face.

Carter leaned towards her cautiously. "He really is okay. I know on account of he's my best friend and he told me he was okay. So he really is fine." His earnest desire to make her feel better had the intended effect. She gave him a little hesitant smile. "Besides, if he was really hurt bad, we wouldn't let him walk around and all. We'd make him stay in his bunk to rest." Carter leaned on his broom to think about it. "Well, we'd try, but he's awfully stubborn sometimes. I mean, sometimes I think that to get him to do something, we have to tell him to do the opposite, do you know what I mean? Once, Colonel Hogan wanted him to stay out of the barracks because we wanted to plan a surprise for him see, and so the Colonel was really smart and he told Newkirk he wanted him to stay _inside_ the barracks, because he knew that Newkirk would sneak out and stay out in the compound just because the Colonel told him not to. You know? I bet you know folks like that."

Newkirk sighed softly to himself as he entered Klink's office. Carter would chatter at poor Helga until Newkirk came back out. Hopefully he would remember the task he was to do while he was in the office. Carter was a good bloke but he was absentminded sometimes. At least Helga liked him. He came to attention in front of Klink's desk, wincing as he pulled the broken ribs too much. "Corporal Newkirk, acting prisoner representative, sir."

"Yes yes..." Klink was bent over his forms and books. "What do you want, Corporal? I'm very busy." He scribbled figures from one sheet of paper to another.

Newkirk put his neatly written list onto the desk. "I 'ave a list of requests, herr Kommandant. Some of the men need blankets. I also 'ave four men what need new boots. It's awful cold, sir and I know that you wouldn't want to 'ave prisoners in the infirmary with frostbite." The ploy to scare Klink into giving them what they wanted felt clumsy and inept to Newkirk. When the Colonel did this, he was so smooth that Klink gave in without even realizing it. He cleared his throat. "Also, we only got 'alf our Red Cross packages last week, sir. I wondered if you might 'ave located those what are missing?"

Picking up the slip of paper and glancing over it quickly, Klink grumped in reply. "IF you're trying to imply that we Germans are stealing your Red Cross..." Klink's voice stopped as he looked up and saw Newkirk's face for the first time. "What happened to your face?" His voice had gone just a little bit shrill.

Without thinking, Newkirk blurted out "The same thing what 'appened to me bleeding broken ribs." He shut his mouth, cursing inwardly at his impulsive nature. "I-I mean, I'm sorry, herr Kommandant, but Major-General Hendrich took it upon 'imself to give me a bit of a lesson on manners, sir." His eyes flickered up and then fastened on the floor again. He really wished the bruises were not so visible.

"I..." Klink seemed to have lost his voice temporarily. "Major-General Hendrich has no right to damage my prisoners."

"Well, no one seems to 'ave told 'im that." Newkirk snorted in disgust then remembered who he was talking to. "Sorry, herr Kommandant."

"Yes well, still..." Klink seemed to be bordering on outraged. "I will speak to him. This sort of thing isn't done, he's not even a member of the Luftwaffe."

Before either of them could continue, there were loud words from the outer office. Hendrich's distinctive voice came through clearly, along with a yelp of pain. Before Klink could move, Newkirk had snatched open the door and rushed out. "Carter!"

Hendrich and his favorite bodyguard Otto had a terrified Carter backed into a corner. A tiny trickle of blood showed that one of them had already hit him in the mouth once.

Hendrich spoke angrily. "Tell me again, why are you here in the office? Are you trying to get your pathetic kommandant to defend you?" He raised his hand to strike again.

Newkirk shoved himself between the two Germans to put himself between Carter and Hendrich. "You get off Carter! He's on cleaning detail! Leave him alone!" He glared into Hendrich's eyes defiantly.

Otto reached to grab Newkirk by the arm. "Get out of the way! No one asked your opinion, cur!" To his surprise, the same Englishman that meekly took a beating the night before now jerked his arm free, slamming the elbow into Otto's wrist sharply.

Helga's scream rose above all of the shouting. "No! Please! Kommandant! Make them stop!" She was cowering behind her desk, shaking with fear. "Bitte herr Kommandant!"

Her cries made Klink jump into action. He might normally be a coward but now he felt pressured into standing up for once. "That's enough of all this!" He walked out stiffly. "Major-General Hendrich, you are upsetting my offices, and I cannot allow all these disruptions to the routine. Perhaps you are not aware, but routine is important in prisoner of war camps, and my stalag has a very good reputation among the High Command because I run it with an iron fist. Your actions are causing quite the uproar." He was covering his nerves quite well for Klink.

Hendrich was nonplussed and took an involuntary step back. "Colonel Klink, perhaps you have forgotten that my rank..."

Klink swallowed back his own fear. "Perhaps you have forgotten, this is a Luftwaffe Stalag, this is not your Heer command. No one is permitted to disrupt the prisoners here, to incite them to violence. No one is permitted to disrupt my staff."

Otto was looking from the increasingly angry Hendrich to Klink. "Do you know who you are speaking to?"

Klink turned on him, almost grateful to have a target who in fact did not outrank him. "I may remind you, _Feldwebel_ Otto... that I am in fact the Kommandant of this Stalag and that you are in _my_ office."

Hendrich tightened his jaw. "I will ask that you do not reprimand my underling."

"Perhaps you should train your underlings better." Klink was bolstered by his success in not being shot so far. He motioned towards the battered Newkirk who was standing in front of Carter with his mouth open. "Newkirk, take Sergeant Carter back to his barracks." He turned to Helga. "Helga, please go into my office and compose yourself. Tears are so unseemly, my dear."

Newkirk reached behind him to tug Carter along the wall. "Out Carter... bloody move.." he whispered. He raised his voice to speak to Klink. "Yes, herr kommandant." Carter fumbled his way out of the door and Newkirk hesitated briefly himself, looking to Klink for just a second. Outrageously, he felt as if he should stay to protect the man. Instead, he backed through the door and shut it behind himself firmly.

Newkirk tried to hurry but they were only a few dozen steps away when the door banged open. Carter turned to look and his eyes widening gave Newkirk all he needed to know who was coming. He reached out and gave Carter a shove to keep moving. "Barracks... 'urry."

"Halt!" The shouted order made both men stop. "I was not finished with this American." Hendrich stomped up, making both of them edge backwards. "Move out of my way, Englander!"

Newkirk swallowed hard. "No herr Major-General." He reminded himself that he was standing in for Colonel Hogan and the Colonel wouldn't allow anyone to touch one of his men. "Kommandant Klink's orders, I 'ave to take him to the barracks." Carter started to try to step around him and Newkirk elbowed him back. "Kommandant's orders. 'e 'as to go to the barracks." Stepping backwards into Carter, he forced him back two more steps away from Hendrich.

Sergeant Otto started forward and Hendrich put a hand up, stopping him. The office door had reopened again and Hendrich was exchanging a glare with Klink. For a few seconds, it seemed the entire world had gone silent.

Klink flicked his gaze away first, turning his glare onto the two prisoners. "Corporal Newkirk! Did I not make myself clear that you were to take Sergeant Carter to his barracks immediately?"

"Yes, herr kommandant..." Newkirk hazarded two more steps backwards, taking Carter with him by shoving behind him with one hand. "I was taking him right now, sir." He continued moving slowly away from Hendrich. When the Major-General suddenly turned to stalk away angrily, followed by Otto, the Brit finally let out his breath and looked at Klink briefly before twisting around to take Carter by one arm and haul him across the compound. "Bloody git."

Carter was looking at him with wide eyes. "I didn't _do_ anything!"

"I know." replied Newkirk tersely. "Just stay out of the Kraut's way." He flashed a wan smile at his friend. "Well, as much as you can, anyway. He cornered you in the office, didn't he?"

"He did! I swear, Newkirk, I was just sweeping and he came in and I moved right out of his way 'cause you know, I always try to stay out of everyone's way, that's how they don't notice you, you told me that. You said 'Carter, if you're not underfoot and act like you're supposed to be there, folks won't notice you' and boy, you were right, because most of the time no one does." Carter looked up and noticed the look of annoyance building on Newkirk's face and made himself go back to the original topic. "But anyway... when he came in and I got out of his way, he just up and slapped me right in the head and it made me fall right into his goon and then _he_ hit me like it was my fault!"

"Not your fault, Carter. They're just a pair of bully boys. Mean just for the sake of being mean." Newkirk gave one last check of the compound before they entered the barracks. "You stay inside, out of sight. I don't think Hendrich will come into the barracks."

"What do you mean, I'm not scared of him!" Carter seemed indignant.

"That's why you need to stay the bloody 'ell away from 'im. You don't have the good sense God gave a rutabaga." Newkirk took a look at Carter's face. "Go clean that blood off before LeBeau spots you and faints." He looked around as Carter went to the sink to clean up. "Olson?"

"Yeah? What do you need, acting-senior-prisoner-representative Newkirk?" Olson hopped down from his bunk and came over. Despite his teasing, he was concerned over his barracks-mate.

"Leave off, you wanker." Newkirk took his teasing well. "Spread the word around camp, everyone that can stay out of the goons' way, do it." A glance showed him that Carter was still busy in the corner, dabbing at his cut lip with a clean cloth from Kinch's footlocker. "Hendrich is after Carter."

"Carter? Wait, our Carter? You don't mean, Carter-Carter?" Olson puffed up a bit. "Well, he can just go hang. No one is beating up _our_ Carter but us." He frowned. "You know what I mean."

"I know." Newkirk rubbed a hand over his hair nervously. "I've got to go get things done."

"Newkirk, you shouldn't be out there either. Both of you should just drop down in the tunnels and stay there." Olson was uncharacteristically somber.

"Can't. Remember?" Newkirk pulled out his halfpenny to begin walking it over his fingers. "I'm the acting senior prisoner representative, right?" The coin made it way back over the fingers again before flipping up into the air and disappearing. "Besides, 'alf the guys out there are going to start panicking if Hendrich keeps on with 'is nonsense." He raised his voice to call to Carter. "Hey, Carter, get down in the tunnels and let Kinch know what 'appened."

Carter nodded and opened the tunnel entrance. "I'll let LeBeau know too, okay?"

"Right-o." Newkirk watched the false bunk drop closed. "I'm 'eaded to Barracks Seven to pick up the work crew. Those roof repairs can't wait." Waving off Olson's protest, he snorted. "Won't matter if no one is beat up if the snow is coming in through the roof. We'll 'ave the whole bleeding barracks down with pneumonia."

"Yeah well, just try to be careful." Olson slipped out of the door, followed closely by Newkirk who carefully sauntered across the compound. Newkirk's forced charade of careless ease was covering his nervous checks of the camp, watching for Hendrich or his personal guards.

The Brit was well practiced in putting up a front for the Germans or for his fellow prisoners. It had been useful to fool Germans into thinking he wasn't about to attempt a bold escape and equally useful to keep other prisoners from guessing exactly how physically weak Newkirk might be. Early in his time in the camps, he had needed to hide any illness or weakness from starvation to avoid being targeted by bullies and nasty guards. After LeBeau had arrived, it had still taken weeks for the Frenchman to see through his act and realize exactly how sick he was. The suspicious Englishman had still collapsed before accepting any help.

Newkirk dug in his pockets for a cigarette. How exactly had he gone from distrust on all sides to most of the camp insisting he act as the representative in Hogan's absence? He smiled to himself. The answer to that was Hogan.

Now if he could only keep things straight until Hogan was back. He amended that in his mind. Kinch would keep things straight. Newkirk just had to not screw things up until Hogan got back.

* * *

End Chapter

I told you it was long! I apologize again but I really didn't feel there was a good place to break it for two chapters.

As always, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

New Chapter time. I'm afraid it's a much shorter chapter. Luck of the draw(or style of writing or something poetic and moving and such).

Thank you to every reviewer! I very much appreciate the feedback I'm getting and am very very glad that people are enjoying it.

To reviewer "Who Me".. could you share where you saw Newkirk as a lieutenant? I'd love to know, I love all Newkirk trivia bits. The pilot I saw, he was a corporal(although he wore a button up shirt under the blouse and greatcoat at least some of the time). Carter was a lieutenant, but he also escaped and all that, so his character was revamped a lot for the series itself(the pilot was just to sell the idea to the network).

To "Smokey", Schultz is there. He's mentioned already. Can't do without Schultz. Hogan went off with the Underground/Abwehr agents.

As always I couldn't get this done without my infamous beta TinySprite, and my fellow authors LadyJaye1, BitsAndPieces and my twitter friends. Thank you to all.

CHAPTER 4

The roof repairs got done. The rest of the camp chores and underground activities progressed as well as possible.

But despite everything the Heroes group could do, the tension in the camp progressed through the day. Hendrich's constant stalking of prisoners had everyone wound up. The prisoners were simply trying to avoid abuse. The camp guards were all beginning to fear a revolt or mass escape. That led to even the most tame of the camp guards trying to crack down on prisoner activities, which in turn led to even more unnerved prisoners.

By evening roll call, everyone was on edge. Schultz came into the barracks early, bearing a bundle of new blankets and a puzzled expression. "Kommandant Klink told me to bring new blankets." He dropped them in a heap on the barracks' table.

"Well bugger me if the Kraut didn't fill the request after all." Newkirk fingered the thick fabric and then brushed searching hands away. "'ere now, these aren't for us. These are to replace those what got burnt."

Schultz raised his hands and then let them fall dramatically. "I don't understand why he suddenly decides to do this. He even told me to make sure to put in the requisition for boots. He's being very nice." He tilted his head at them. "So now maybe you will all be good for roll call, ja? Please boys, just line up and be good?"

Kinch smiled at their pleading guard. "Okay guys, you heard Schultz. Raus, roll call! Raus!" His mimicry got him an eye roll and sigh from the long suffering guard but everyone else filed out to line up properly, only harassing Schultz a little bit.

Newkirk stood in line. Some part of him know what was coming. A glance showed him Kinch was trying to hide his own nervousness. All of the assembled prisoners were showing signs of being on edge. The joking tone was gone and any protests were angry. Kinch gave him a nod towards the compound and the Brit sighed heavily. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to draw more attention to himself when trouble was brewing, and yet, here he was in the spotlight.

Raising his voice, Newkirk shouted over the din. "Prisoners! Fall in! Settle down, mates!" He watched as most of the men quieted and lined up properly. If there was still an undercurrent of mutters, he ignored it. The nervous guards calmed down as their charges settled.

Watching the compound, Newkirk finally saw Hendrich emerge from the offices. Otto shadowed him and finally Klink trailed behind. Their kommandant's body language did not bode well for anyone. The posturing from earlier was gone, replaced by nervous anxiety. Newkirk exchanged a look with LeBeau who frowned and gave a tiny shake of his head.

LeBeau whispered to him. "Hendrich threatened Klink for an hour with a trip to the Russian Front and dropped a lot of names of top German bosch. Klink won't stand up for his own mother now."

"Bloody brilliant." grumbled Newkirk before once again raising his voice. "Attention!"

Prisoners across the compound stopped shifting about and straightened. It was rare that their chosen CO called them to a proper formation and it confused them. The earlier orders to lie low had caused anxiety and this now only intensified the fear. Newkirk preferred his fellow prisoners afraid rather than them being targeted by Hendrich for what was their normal rowdiness.

The camp guards were nearly as puzzled as the prisoners but gratefully conducted the head count. Kinch watched Hendrich approaching Barracks Two and hissed a warning. The smug smile on the German's face looked evil as the man inspected each POW he passed. Even LeBeau stiffened to attention when it was his turn.

Otto looked LeBeau over and spoke in a undertone to his commander.

Hendrich uttered a short bark of laughter. "Nein, Otto. Frenchmen do come in normal sizes, Klink just caught one of the many runts! They are after all, an inferior race." Hendrich smirked down at an impassive LeBeau as Otto dutifully laughed. If that was the worst insult the Kraut could come up with, Newkirk could relax. They'd all heard far worse, especially LeBeau. Louis would stand stoically and then repeat the insults later in the barracks in mocking tones.

Carter on the other hand, had not been around long enough to learn the subtle cues from his friends on when and how to react.

"LeBeau might be small but he's worth any ten of you Krauts!" said Carter angrily.

"Carter!" exclaimed Newkirk, shutting down any further commentary from the American. LeBeau hazarded a swift kick to Carter's leg in case it wasn't perfectly clear that he should shut up now.

Carter's eyes widened as Hendrich stepped in front of the him. Hendrich's voice had dropped to a sincere tone of satisfaction. "I see my earlier assessment was correct. You do indeed seem in need of a good lesson in... manners."

"No."

The firmly spoken word made Hendrich turn to the battered British POW. "Pardon?" He stepped over closer. "Did you say something?" The menace fairly dripped from every word.

"I said... no." Newkirk looked up in Hendrich's face. "If you 'ave difficulties understanding English, I can say it in other languages. Nein. Non. Nyet. Sergeant Carter does not need any lessons, especially from the likes of you." The Brit held his gaze steady while inside he was screaming, both in fear at what he was inviting onto himself by provoking the German and in anger at Carter for causing the situation to begin with.

"Careful Britisher. I'll begin to think you enjoy my company after all." Hendrich's smile never wavered.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure I'm clear in 'ow much I dislike you and the rest of your Nazi goons." Newkirk sealed his fate.

"Otto, take the prisoner to my quarters. It seems he missed us. We will have to make certain we make a more lasting impression on him this time." Hendrich turned and approached Klink. "I'm sure that the Kommandant has no objections to me meting out a small amount of discipline. After all, the prisoner did show his disrespect to a German officer right out here in public." He leaned in to smile at Klink. "We can't let that behavior pass, now can we?"

"No, of course not, Major-General." Klink looked completely crestfallen as he watched Otto jerk Newkirk out of line. To his credit, he did make at least a token effort to intervene. "I am perfectly capable of disciplining my prisoners in my own camp myself however."

"No no, I'll just take this small duty off your busy hands." Hendrich bent even closer to Klink's ear to speak softly. Whatever he was saying made Klink pale.

Newkirk heard the compound erupting into mutters and protests as Otto shoved him forward. As much as he wanted to scream for someone... anyone to come help him, he knew with everyone on hair triggers, it would take little to have a riot start. With the guards all on edge, it would be a bloodbath and even if the camp guards felt terribly guilty afterward, it would be small consolation to those wounded or killed in the melee. Twisting out of Otto's grip, he put up his hands to the others in a clear gesture to quiet down. Nodding towards Kinch, he turned on his heel and walked himself to the quarters, affecting a careless attitude about what might come later.

"So Otto, time for you to show all your honor and training by holding down a 'elpless prisoner for your big bad boss to beat up again? Your mum must be so proud." That earned him a cuff to the back of his head. He heard a rumble from the compound as the prisoners reacted. "Ease off, you ruddy blighter, I'm walking, ain't I?"

"Ja, walk faster." Otto didn't sound in the least bit hesitant and Newkirk took a deeper breath as he walked up the steps to the guest quarters.

He tried to raise his own spirits by wondering if tonight's beating would be shorter from Hendrich's knuckles being sore from the last beating he'd meted out. It didn't work much. He found himself both wondering how Hogan ever dealt with the risk of being front and center of every German threat to the prisoner population... and wishing desperately that he was here to pull Newkirk out of the frying pan he'd hopped into.

H H H H

End Chapter

Awww... sorry Newkirk. Until next week, same bat time, same bat channel. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello all, thank you to all the readers and adoration to all the reviewers. This week's installment of Stalag 13's "What else can go wrong?" Olympics will include a few scenes, including one with violence(sorry Newkirk). I promise... other things will happen.

Regular disclaimer about how tragic it is that I don't own any rights to Hogan's Heroes and do not make money from the fanfiction that I write. I do however make a lot of great friends through a shared love of geeky things and old shows.

Also, my regular thanks to TinySprite for all her help, to LadyJaye1 for her assistance, to my regular Twitter crew for being awesome and to Bits and Pieces for her constant encouragement.

CHAPTER 5

* * *

LeBeau was shouting at Carter who stood hangdog in the barracks. "I know, Louis, I know, I should have kept my mouth shut, I get it! I'm sorry!"

"Don't tell ME! Tell Newkirk who is getting beaten again because you cannot shut up!" LeBeau was furious and refused to calm down. "You might as well be working for the Germans with all the trouble you cause and you're always 'sorry'!"

Kinch stepped between them. "Look, LeBeau, you know Hendrich was probably gunning for Newkirk anyway. Calm down. Carter can't unspeak the words."

LeBeau went to his bunk, still muttering in French. His glare at Carter was still hot.

"I really am sorry." Carter sat on his own bunk and twisted his hands. "What are we going to do?"

Kinch sighed. "We do the same thing as last night. We sit around feeling lousy until Newkirk comes back and we make sure he's okay. I'm sorry, Carter but life in a German POW camp isn't daisies and butterflies."

"I know but..." Carter started to reply.

Uncharacteristically, Kinch cut him off. "But nothing. Go to bed. I swear, if I thought you were even capable of it, I'd order you to keep your mouth shut for twenty-four hours just to teach you how it's done." The short burst of anger passed quickly. "Look, Carter, I don't mean to snap at you. But you're not the only person who wishes they could go running out to the rescue and make things all safe for everyone. So just go to bed."

Carter still had a hangdog expression as he crawled into his bunk and curled up facing the wall. Kinch tried to feel bad about hurting Carter's feelings but he really was irritated about his outburst and guilty himself for not trying to help Newkirk. Logically he knew that stepping up to interfere would probably have resulted in prisoners getting shot. One man stepping forward would have triggered the rest of the prisoners to rise up and even Klink's humane nature wouldn't save them.

Olson appeared at his elbow. "Hey Kinch, don't beat yourself up over this." He shifted uneasily, watching through the window with him. "Old Newkirk can take whatever that Kraut wants to dish out." He lowered his voice. "He knew it was going to happen again."

Kinch met his eyes. "That doesn't make me feel better." He inhaled. "How does he jump out like that, knowing what could happen?"

Olson gave a little rueful shrug. "Because to him, it would be worse to know one of his buddies is going through the pain when he could have stopped it."

Kinch sighed and watched Schultz coming to call for lights-out. "Then why are we standing here when we could have stopped it."

Olson reached up and squeezed his shoulder. "Because we have to think about all the other guys that would have suffered too. Just like Newkirk was thinking of them. He'll be fine. Our Cockney is too stubborn to quit."

H H H H

* * *

Once again Newkirk found himself trying to take a beating stoically. Hendrich enjoyed hitting the same bruised spots all over again. The first blows to his ribs had alerted the German to the tape bandages. Newkirk found himself quickly stripped of his uniform blouse and woolen pullover. Otto had gleefully ripped the tape off. Newkirk now got to deal with shivering in the chill as well as the beating.

Newkirk made himself a mental note to only get his ribs wrapped with cloth bandages from now on. Tape was too precious to waste if some Kraut was just going to remove it. Also, it was painful. He was certain that he'd lost a layer of skin with the tape.

A sharp blow into his broken rib made him gasp and cry out in pain. Sadistic. Why were so many German officers sadists anyway? Maybe it was a requirement to move up in the ranks. Of course, officers in general tended towards sadism. Another fist to his swollen jaw made darkness creep into his vision briefly. Why, even RAF officers seemed to be experts at making errant enlisted men miserable. His head snapped back and he felt blood begin to trickle down from his eyebrow. Letting out a soft moan, he struggled weakly in Otto's tight hold.

"Please, herr Major-General," His voice sounded rusty. "Please stop, I'm sorry."

"Liar." Hendrich hissed at him, coming close to glare into his eyes from inches away. "You don't think I am aware that you deliberately provoked me?" Hendrich sneered when Newkirk's eyes widened. "You think I am stupid, ja?"

"N-no... no, herr Major-General please..." Newkirk panicked just a bit. He didn't want to try to outwit a smart Kraut. He really worked better with the stupid ones, or greedy ones. Sadists that were smart were a different species and his brain was entirely too foggy to be having conversations with one right this moment. Dealing with smart Germans was Hogan's job. Why was he doing Hogan's job again? Oh... yes... Carter. Newkirk sighed softly. Perhaps he would give Carter a good thump when he got back to the barracks. That would make him feel immeasurably better. And here the smart Kraut sadist was talking to him and he really should pay attention.

Hendrich leaned closer. "Ja, ja. I knew what you were doing. You wanted to keep me from taking one of your 'pals', ja? Do you feel... responsible for the men here? For your friends?" Hendrich switched sides, still in Newkirk's face. "You wouldn't like it if I sent Otto out to get one of them, would you?"

"No." Newkirk blinked suddenly. Why had he answered the damn Kraut? Don't answer the psychopath. His panic began to intensify. He needed to clear his mind. Wasn't thinking right. Wasn't thinking much at all.

"Nein, you wouldn't want me to punish one of them instead of you? I'll be nice to you." Hendrich stepped back and smiled and that smile had no humor and no happiness in it. "I'll let you pick which of your fellow prisoners you want Otto to get. You tell me which one and Otto will bring him in here and then I'll let you go."

Newkirk stared at him and wondered how many POWs in the camp would take that choice as a chance to punish someone in the camp they didn't like. He thought about the bigot that harassed Kinch every chance he got. About that lousy Italian that spat in LeBeau's soup that time. His eyes narrowed slightly. About that bastard that had lied and gotten Newkirk a long cold thirty days in the cooler for stealing.

"Ja? Now you just tell me a name." Hendrich leaned forward. "Anyone?"

Swallowing carefully, Newkirk shook his head. Hendrich made a questioning noise and he shook his head again. "No. No one."

"Nein. There must be someone..." Now the German paced a short distance and then turned back, snapping his fingers in a mockery of an appearing idea. "Oh I know. That American friend of yours." He watched with pleasure as the color left his victim's face. "Sergeant Carter, I believe. I can just send Otto out to fetch him and we shall continue our lessons with him and you... you can go back to your dirty little bunk and sleep."

"No." Newkirk struggled to control his temper and his breathing. "No, it's fine. I 'aven't learned my lessons yet." He tried to straighten up and Otto's grip tightened and bent him slightly forward. "Uuuhhh... okay, I don't want to name anyone." He wondered if the bones in his arms were able to actually bend as that is what it was beginning to feel like.

"Nein... you wouldn't like it if I had your friend in here instead of you." Hendrich stepped over and looked at him with an intense excitement. "You would prefer to stay here, rather than know your friend was taking your place." Another step and he was again face-to-face. "Why don't you prove how cooperative you can be?"

"Cooperative?" Newkirk tried again to twist further away from the crazy officer but Otto's relentless grip kept him still.

"Ja, Corporal. Either I send Otto out to bring your friend... or you get on your knees and prove just how cooperative you want to be." Hendrich's teeth shone as he smiled again.

Newkirk went cold as he began to realize just how much he'd messed up on his estimates of this particular German. It was going to be a long evening.

H H H H

* * *

Kinch's forehead was leaned up against the cold window as he half dozed. Suddenly he could see light as the guest quarters' door opened and shut. Blinking he reached up and rubbed the window glass a bit. Olson had gone back out to try to get close to the building again but had turned back when it was obvious that the guards were more alert tonight. He'd tried using the tunnels and had returned to the barracks again having failed that way as well. Kinch had sent him to bed finally.

Kinch blended into the darkness of the barracks easily. Listening to the familiar noises, he thought most of the men were asleep. He didn't hear Carter's snores which meant he was probably awake and Olson slept only fitfully, tossing and turning. Kinch would bet that LeBeau was wide awake but the Frenchman was too good at pretending to be asleep for Kinch to ever be able to tell.

Moving to the doorway, he cracked it open carefully to peer out. He could see a thin figure on the ground on his hands and knees near the steps of the guest quarters. The quiet of the night meant the sounds of retching were clear even across the compound. The softer noise of a German guard trying to get him onto his feet wasn't clear enough for Kinch to tell exactly which guard it was. He could tell the voice wasn't angry or threatening and tried to relax and wait patiently.

Soon enough he was watching Newkirk staggering across the compound slowly. The German guard turned out to be Langenscheidt and he held Newkirk up by one arm as they walked. As soon as they reached the barracks, Kinch took his friend in hand. "Thanks Langenscheidt." As the door shut firmly, he felt Newkirk begin to collapse and immediately got an arm around his waist to hold him. "Easy... come on." Getting Newkirk into Hogan's empty quarters took a bit longer than he would have liked. "Sit on the bunk... let me get some water." Kinch lit the little oil candle and brought in a bowl of water. By the time he'd walked back into Hogan's quarters, Carter was there as well.

Carter went to his friend. "Hey, Newkirk, are you okay? It's really late, we were all worried..."

"Carter..." Newkirk's voice was low and hoarse. He reached out to put a hand onto Carter's shoulder and drew him in close. "Carter, mate, don't take this wrong. You 'aven't done nothing wrong, okay?" Carter nodded but looked confused. "I need you..." he paused to cough. "Sorry, I need you to leave me the 'ell alone for a while, okay?" When Carter started to protest, Newkirk shook his head gingerly. "Not your fault, but I want you to just stay away from me."

"Oh... oh, okay... then... okay..." Carter sounded hurt but he got up and went to the door. "But... if you need anything..." He stopped and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm real sorry."

"Not yer fault." Newkirk was bent over clutching his middle as Carter left the room. He retched dryly a couple times but waved Kinch aside. "Is okay, I tossed up everything outside already."

"Newkirk, do I need to get Medic Wilson?" Kinch began to wash the blood away. "Where are you hurt worst?"

There was a soft laugh that held little humor. "I'm fine. Me ribs are pretty bad, they ripped all the tape off them."

"You're not fine." Kinch was quite aware of how good an actor Newkirk was and was perfectly capable of seeing right through even the Cockney's best efforts. Tonight had rattled him. He watched a tremor go through Newkirk's body, making him wince slightly. "Easy..." With the blood washed away, he could see the cut was minor and he settled next to him on the bunk and put one arm carefully around his shoulders to support him. "Tell me, what happened?"

"I... I can't..." His voice choked up for a second. "Just... don't. Hendrich's a monster."

"Yeah, I got that impression." Kinch sat patiently and waited. Newkirk wasn't shrugging him off and that was practically the same as anyone else clinging to him.

After a long moment, Newkirk tried to clear his throat quietly. "Hendrich offered me a chance to pick someone else. The bastard... 'e wanted me to trade places with Carter... I couldn't do that. Not to anyone 'ere but especially not Carter." He coughed again. "Be like tossing a puppy to the wolves."

"Yeah... still, that's hard. It's not your fault though, you never asked for this." Kinch drew him closer. "Just don't start blaming yourself."

"You were right... it's worse than the Gestapo. At least with the Gestapo, I can always choose to tell them what they want to 'ear. Hendrich just wants to 'urt me. Just wants to 'urt someone, nothing else." He swallowed carefully. "And 'ow do I deal with that?"

"You had a choice, Peter. You could have said 'go pick someone else'. You held out for all of us. You held out for Carter. It's the same as holding out against the Gestapo when they want you to betray the Colonel and tell them about the whole operation. You're too strong for any of these Germans." Through the arm around Newkirk's shoulders, Kinch could actually feel the slight relaxing of tensed muscles as the Brit accepted what Kinch told him. It helped that Newkirk usually accepted whatever Kinch told him as truth.

Newkirk's voice dropped to a whisper. "I 'ate Carter. I don't want to, but it's 'is fault..." His voice faltered a moment. "I know it's not right. It's not 'is fault, not really but..." His eyes found Kinch's in the low flickering light. "If 'e comes around me, I'll bite 'is 'ead off and that's not fair."

Kinch tightened his arm very gently. "No, it's not fair but there isn't a lot of fair going around these days. Carter will understand. I can explain it to him."

"No!" Lowering his voice after the one word outburst, Newkirk shook his head. "If Carter knew I was putting up with Hendrich to keep 'im safe, it would kill 'im. I just need 'im to stay away from me."

"Alright." Kinch sat quietly with him for a moment. "You want to tell me what else happened?"

"No."

"You okay?"

"Better." Newkirk tried to take a deep breath and regretted it. "I just want to lie down." He looked at the door and thought about climbing up onto his bunk and thought about having Carter right underneath him and he wanted to sigh in frustration but knew it would simply hurt more.

"You're sure that you're okay?" Kinch wasn't giving in without being certain.

"Yeah, Kinch old man, I don't really 'ave any more injuries than I 'ad last night. Just 'urt twice as much." Newkirk straightened himself up. "Thanks Kinch."

"It's nothing. Also, you should just stay in here. Colonel Hogan wouldn't object and it's a lower bunk. We'll have someone switch with you tomorrow so you don't have to climb."

"Okay." When Newkirk gave in right away, Kinch was even more alarmed at his state of mind.

It only took a few minutes to get him as comfortable as the injuries allowed. Kinch was resolved to sit and wait as long as needed for Newkirk to fall asleep, just in case. But the exhausted man was asleep quickly.

H H H H

* * *

End Chapter

Yes I know, sorry Newkirk. Also, poor Carter(although he should not mouth off at times).

Thank you for reading and as always, reviews are always appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

Time for a new chapter... and a huge thank you to all of the readers and reviewers. Special thanks to those who are reviewing as guests! Your reviews are greatly appreciated. To signed reviews, I hope I responded to each of you because I truly appreciate everyone taking time to let me know their feelings.

Yes, things are tough on our favorite Englishman. No, Hogan is not going to arrive to save the day yet... perhaps... not at all... *insert dramatic music here* Yeah, well, Hogan will make it back before the very end of the fic.

Enough author's note, now fic.

* * *

Chapter 5

Kinch was on hand to help Newkirk up and to roll call. LeBeau helped to steady him while they waited in formation. The Frenchman tried not to be obvious about it and by the time they were all dismissed, Newkirk was better able to move around the compound. Everyone was relieved that Hendrich didn't put in an appearance this morning. While suspicious, Newkirk put on the same act as the previous day, joking with the other prisoners and trying to amuse a few of the guards. LeBeau shadowed him the entire time.

Carter had hovered behind Newkirk until Kinch took him aside. Then he took off on an errand while Kinch gave Newkirk a nod.

Newkirk breathed a sigh of relief that lasted just until Carter returned with Medic Wilson. Then he looked around for the suddenly absent Kinch. "Busybodies..." Suddenly annoyed, he went along with Wilson to the small infirmary under protest. Carter fell in beside him and he glared at him. "What did I ruddy well tell you last night?"

"What? But I thought that was just last night and..." Carter gave him a hurt expression.

"Thinking ain't your strong suite, Carter. Now go on, go find somewhere else to be." Newkirk growled unhappily. LeBeau started to speak up beside him and the Brit turned on him as well. "Leave off!" LeBeau gave him a reproachful look before jerking his chin at Carter to follow him.

Newkirk glared at the two as they began to walk away, feeling hurt that his little French mate would take up with Carter. He knew he was being unfair to them both but stubbornly decided it wasn't fair that he was taking all the abuse from the Krauts. Part of him, deep down inside, feared he wouldn't be able to help them when and if Hendrich decided to target them.

Wilson touched his arm slightly to get his attention. "Come on, you can be grouchy to your friends later. Let's get your ribs wrapped up again." He indicated the infirmary.

They both paused again as Hendrich's staff car drove through the compound and stopped at the guest quarters. Wilson watched for a few seconds before speaking quietly. "Are they leaving?"

"No idea." Newkirk gazed expressionlessly at the scenario. "I hope so, as far as I'm concerned, 'e's worn out 'is bloody welcome 'ere."

"That's for certain." Wilson's look of sympathy vanished before Newkirk could turn around. "Come on, let's go wrap the ribs. I shouldn't have to say it twice. It's for your own good."

"Why is it that all the stuff what you want to do for me own good always 'urts and is uncomfortable? Why can't you do something for my own good that feels nice?" Newkirk's attention was still partially on the departing Hendrich, but he followed Wilson along to the dingy little building that held the prisoner's infirmary.

Newkirk left the infirmary still grumbling about Wilson's long list of 'things Newkirk shouldn't do'. It wasn't as if he hadn't been bruised up before and dealt with it without any medical attention at all. His ribs felt better with the tight wrap, although he'd convinced the medic to use cloth bandages. Wilson had argued right up until he'd found the damage from the tape removal. For a moment, he had wondered if he'd have to stop Wilson from going out after Hendrich himself. Their medic was never so fierce as when someone threatened to un-do his work.

He rubbed at his still sore jaw and started across to the barracks. Kinch would fill him in on whatever needed doing for the day. Without Kinch about, he'd have been completely lost with this farce of a role. As if he could manage being the prisoner representative. He could barely keep himself out of trouble. According to LeBeau, he was incapable of it. His lip quirked upwards slightly. According to _Wilson_ , he was practically suicidally stupid at taking care of himself.

His eyes flickered up in time to see LeBeau and Carter emerging from the barracks. LeBeau spotted him at about the same time and the pleased grin told Newkirk that his earlier fit of temper had been forgiven by his friend already. He smiled in response and started that way when he saw LeBeau stop grinning and point in warning.

He turned just in time to mostly duck the cuff to his head from Otto. "Oi! Watch it!" He put his arms up to block and Otto grabbed one and yanked him around.

"Come, Englander, Major-General Hendrich has need of you." Otto didn't seem to even notice Newkirk's struggles as he half-dragged him towards Hendrich's staff car.

Becoming more panicked the closer they got to the car, Newkirk hazarded putting his heel into the back of Otto's knee to knock him down. Unfortunately Otto merely stumbled and kept his tight grip on the prisoner. Within a few seconds, Newkirk found himself facedown in the dirt instead. Otto cursed angrily in German as he fastened the Brit's hands behind him with cuffs.

There was an eruption of shouts of protest from prisoners in the compound. More of the POWs came running to see what was happening and a few guards began yelling.

"No! NO!" shouted Newkirk from the dirt. He could see Hendrich's second bodyguard stepping between them and the approaching POWs with a rifle. "NO! Stop!" He struggled to get up to try to do something to stop both the POWs from attacking the Germans and Hendrich's men from murdering prisoners. Otto kept him on the ground easily.

LeBeau was right there screaming at the guards in French. His gestures told them exactly what he was protesting about and that he wanted his friend released, even if they didn't speak a word of French. Langenscheidt arrived at a run to push POWs back away from them. "Halt! Nein!" The poor German corporal was torn between blocking the POWs from mobbing Otto to force Newkirk's release and blocking Jager from shooting the shouting prisoners. Luckily for Langenscheidt, other stalag guards arrived quickly to back him up in both roles. Jager looked annoyed at being moved backwards away from the prisoners who were now turning to the stalag guards. The crowd was growing and the prisoners were shouting and pointing, demanding Newkirk's release.

"Stop! Louis! Stop! He'll shoot you!" Newkirk was dragged up to his knees but he continued to try to yell to his friends. "LeBeau! Stop!" He dredged up his poor French and tried again. "Arreter crier! Vous... uhh, vous tour tous!" [*stop screaming, you turn all]

Either his words got through or his French was bad enough to stop LeBeau in his tracks as he pushed against Langenscheidt. "Non! Newkirk! We won't let them take you!"

"Louis! Stop it and take Carter away!" Newkirk twisted and saw Hendrich approaching with a snarl on his face. "Quick LeBeau!"

LeBeau looked to see the German officer striding up angrily and pulling out his Luger. "Vous reviendrez, Newkirk..." He smiled grimly. "Your French is still terrible!" He grabbed Carter and dragged him back into the press of men who were still crowding the stalag guards. The parting insult made Newkirk feel better. Things would work out now. Things would work out because life couldn't end with the last words between them being insults. It just wasn't done. He smiled just a little.

Hendrich stepped up and surveyed the almost-mob scene and twisted to glare at Newkirk still on his knees in Otto's grip. "You cause too much trouble, Corporal." He aimed the Luger at Newkirk's face and the crowd slowly went silent. "The next POW who tries to stop me, I'll put a bullet in your precious friend's head." He looked smug as he bent slightly to speak to Newkirk. "Now, get up and get in the car."

"No. You can't take a Lufewaffe POW out of the stalag without permission. You can't remove a POW without reason. It's against the rules and the Geneva Convention." Newkirk set his jaw and took the punch to his cheek. He spat bloody spit into the dirt and looked back up defiantly. "You also can't beat a POW without reason."

Hendrich looked furious. "Otto is going to release you and you're going to walk to the car and get in. If you do anything other than what I just told you, Otto will go retrieve your friend Sergeant Carter instead and I'll take him and leave you here." He stepped back and nodded to Otto who turned loose and waited.

Newkirk knelt in the dirt staring at the crowd of prisoners. He had the feeling that if he called out to them for help, they would mob right over the stalag guards to try to take down Hendrich and both his guards. He glared up at Hendrich and bluffed with all he had in him. "You go after anyone else in that mob and they'll riot. You don't want to risk being taken down by the prisoners." He was struggling to keep his panic off his face.

Hendrich's anger turned suddenly to a smile. "I'd welcome a prisoner riot. Otto and I haven't shot anyone in weeks." He turned to Otto. "How many do you think you could kill before they overran us?"

Otto's voice was deathly serious. "As many as I have bullets." He turned his dark gaze to the kneeling prisoner. "These pigs have no spine, they will break when a few of them die. They are soft."

Hendrich's smile widened slightly. "I think a riot and a dozen or more dead prisoners would do wonders towards getting Klink shipped off to the Russian Front. A fitting reward for that little kommandant. Thinking he could defy my wishes, indeed."

Those words made Newkirk's resolve crumble even more than the threat to Carter. The operation could do without any one of the men involved. But if they lost Klink, they would have to deal with a real kommandant, someone that even Hogan couldn't manipulate. Looking at the tense crowd, Newkirk realized that he knew most of them by name and was reminded that even if it was in name only, he was the Man of Confidence for all of them right now. If they did riot, plenty of them would die and be wounded, especially considering the number of armed camp guards that had arrived to impose order on them all. He twisted his wrists in the cuffs behind his back and struggled to his feet. Once standing, he looked at the POWs again and spotted Kinch pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Kinch stopped and looked back at him, waiting.

After a few heartbeats that felt like they took hours, Newkirk shook his head at Kinch and turned to walk to the staff car with his head down. Otto followed behind him closely. Jager shadowed Hendrich a few steps behind. When he got into the staff car, he felt sick. He could hear additional shouting and thought that he identified Klink's ineffective protests as Hendrich and his two guards got in. As they passed through the gate, Newkirk lifted his head enough to look back at the stalag he'd lived in for the past years of captivity.

"Wise choice, Corporal." Hendrich's smug tone would have curdled milk. "Shooting a dozen of your fellow POWs would have caused quite a stir, I expect. This way is much better." He leaned closer to pat Newkirk's head. "I suggest you remain cooperative. Otto can always return to pick up your friends if I want him to."

"Yes, herr Major-General." choked out Newkirk. His anger was struggling against sheer terror. He didn't like feeling helpless. He rarely felt helpless. If he couldn't actually get himself loose, he normally knew that even if he took a little bit of a beating, he'd be returned to his barracks where his mates would take care of him. He had the luxury of snarking off and angering his captors however he dared. The guards at the stalag had grown accustomed to the wise cracks and taunts from the infamous 'Englander' that had been at the camp longer than almost any of the guards.

There were the rare exceptions. Also, there was the Gestapo, especially the insane Hochstetter. No matter how nonchalant Colonel Hogan was handling the Gestapo major, Newkirk always went a little cold inside every time the major showed his face. He'd gotten to be an excellent actor when it came to behaving calm and collected around dangerous Germans but inside he was always scared of Hochstetter. One day, he was convinced the madman would simply pull out a weapon and shoot them all... and with Newkirk's luck, it would be for something that they really hadn't done.

And his fear of Hochstetter was a candle compared to the wildfire of terror he was feeling right now. The little bit of his mind that wasn't racing in little circles looking for a way out was wishing somehow that someone would show up to rescue him. A small part of him wondered if it wouldn't be better to just attempt an escape to get shot and not have to go through anything else. But the rest of his stubborn Cockney nature scoffed at that. He'd figure some way out, or maybe the Underground would help him.

He let his eyes flick over to Hendrich quickly and then back down the the car floorboards. How bad could it get? The memory of the humiliation of the night before rose up unbidden and he swallowed carefully and stopped thinking about it.

* * *

Kinch stood in the midst of the barracks waiting out the initial storm of reaction. "All right, ENOUGH!" he shouted over the din of voices. "I know! But there was nothing we could do without endangering half the guys in the camp." There was muttering but the men all quieted. "I'm going to go to Klink and raise a fuss as much as I can. Baker..." The quiet black POW stepped forward through the crowd. "Get downstairs and call any of the Underground you can safely contact. Give them descriptions and see if any of them can tell us where Hendrich is or where he's going. If we're all very lucky, maybe they can even free Newkirk." The muttering turned at least slightly positive. "Carter, make us some grenades and smoke bombs. I don't know if we'll be able to use them but at least we will have them on hand. LeBeau and Olson, talk to the guards and find out if any of them have an idea where Hendrich might have been headed." Kinch raised his hands above everyone and shook his head as a fuss began again. "Look, we can't go storming out of the camp and find him!"

One of the younger men from another barracks spoke up angrily. "Why not!? If Colonel Hogan was here, he wouldn't have ever let the bastard take Newkirk to begin with!"

Before Kinch could speak, Carter pushed through to stand nose-to-nose with the young prisoner. "Hey! It's not Kinch's fault! If Colonel Hogan was here, everything would be different but he's NOT here! If you're going to wish for stupid things, wish the whole stupid war was over and Hitler was dead and we all were home!" The outrageous speech from Carter made everyone shut up. The crowd shuffled their feet and looked around uncomfortably. "We can't make it not happen so let's see what we can do to get Newkirk back, okay?"

"Carter's right." Olson put an arm over Carter's shoulders. "Good to see that you can actually get angry there, Sergeant." While Carter flushed in embarrassment, Olson nodded to the surrounding men. "Okay, I say everyone can make sure to show the Krauts how upset we are. Don't get into trouble, don't touch any Krauts, but we can sure make it clear that we want our Newkirk back and we aren't going to be happy until we do. Maybe Klink will feel the pressure. What do you say, Kinch?"

Kinch nodded tiredly. "Don't get anyone in trouble. It's not like I could ask anyone to act happy about all this anyway." He wiped his face. "Colonel Hogan is never going to leave me in charge again."

Carter grimaced in sympathy. "Sure he will. Who else does he have?"

* * *

End Chapter

Ahhh, I told you Hendrich would be leaving... *you know who you are!*

I realize that part of Newkirk's French made no sense. That's why I deliberately left in the translation, so anyone who speaks French won't get caught up on the "That makes no sense!". He doesn't speak very good French. German, yes. French, no. Especially in the middle of a riot scene while being threatened by a crazed Nazi. LeBeau cringes in sympathy for all the French speakers.

More soon. I am doing well with the updating once a week, and unless a disaster strikes, I plan on continuing the once a week postings. Well, unless the pitchforks and torches come out.

Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to all the folks reading this. A huge thank you to all the folks sending me feedback as well. Big thanks to my peeps who keep putting up with my obsession and to Bits and Pieces for the moral support and to the infamously awesome TinySprite for all her work.

No, Smoky, I won't do Hendrich's POV. Anything you can't see from outside his head, you probably don't want to know. Just figure he's a sick individual who gets his jollies from abusing others. There's no sad childhood story there, just a sicko.

I apologize for not responding already to each review yet, but I will get to those replies tonight, promise! It's been a rather insane week.

* * *

Chapter 7

Kinch held in the sigh of frustration as he stood in front of the kommandant's desk. He was holding his hat in both hands and trying not to fidget and trying to stand far enough away that he didn't loom over the German. He knew he tended to intimidate Klink and the last thing they needed right now was for Klink to feel threatened by the tall black man.

He inhaled softly and began again. "But Kommandant Klink, it's against the Geneva Convention for that Army Major-General to abuse a POW this way and now he's removed him from camp without proper authorization. Surely there is something you can do. You're the kommandant of the camp. You can demand the return of your prisoners." His voice was beginning to grow desperate. The Colonel was so good at manipulating Klink into doing exactly what they wanted him to do. No one else in the camp had as much ability. Kinch swallowed carefully. Right now it all hinged on Klink. He was the only authority they had. "Kommandant, the men are very upset and I don't know that I can keep them from acting out."

"If they act out, they will be punished." Klink was falling back on unreasonable sternness. "Any breaking of the rules will be dealt with harshly. Once a few of them see their fellow prisoners punished, they will stop. I will not tolerate any interference in the efficient running of this camp!" His hand impacted the desktop with a loud smack.

"Then why did you allow that Kraut bastard to take one of your POWs!?" Kinch retorted. "He's the one disrupting the POWs here. If you'd dealt with him instead of allowing him to abuse prisoners for sport, there would be no situation at all."

Klink stiffened and Kinch knew he'd taken the wrong tact. Klink stood up. "I will not tolerate being questioned by a prisoner in my own office! I suggest you remove yourself immediately. If any POW wants to make himself a target, then I will make him an example. Do you understand? You are my prisoners. You do not give orders, nor make demands of me. Now leave."

Kinch was seething but gripped the edges of his hat tighter to control his temper now. Every moment Newkirk was gone there was less of a chance of him returning unharmed. "But herr Kommandant please... Corporal Newkirk..."

"Silence." said Klink. "Major-General Hendrich may return Corporal Newkirk when he is..." Klink's face fell slightly from the angry mask. "... when he is finished with him. Until then, this stalag will run as it has always run. Tell the prisoners that no breaking of the rules will be forgiven and that if even one incident occurs, all prisoners will be confined to the barracks for a week without privileges. Am I understood?"

Kinch gave in. If he continued to push, he would just get the entire camp punished. "Yes, herr kommandant. Understood, herr kommandant."

"Good. You are dismissed." Klink snapped a salute in return to Kinch's grudgingly given one. Kinch was opening the door to leave when Klink spoke quietly. "I am certain Hendrich will return the Englander."

Kinch paused for a second. "Yes, herr kommandant." He exited without further comment. Flipping his hat back up onto his head as he left the kommandantur, he fumed that Klink's backbone only seemed to blossom into being when he dealt with prisoners and not with the visiting Major-General. "Damned useless Kraut."

* * *

Olson and a small group of prisoners from the other barracks were engaged in a staring match with the guards at the front gates. The dozen or so POWs stood in a huddle, glaring balefully at the guards who shifted nervously in their positions. Olson had made sure to stop his group just short of easy speaking distance and well outside of the inner warning line. The group muttered to each other and milled around but did not give the Germans any true reason to disperse them. The distance was enough that the gate guards couldn't approach to shoo them away without leaving their posts. But they were definitely close enough to keep the attention on themselves.

American Private Adams lowered his voice. "This ain't right, none of us meant for any of this to happen when we elected Newkirk!" Olson gave him a questioning look and he set his jaw and continued. "Look, sure Newkirk is good at conning Germans and yeah, most of us figure he'd give us little guys a good shake, being a corporal himself and all..." He took a breath. "But mostly we picked him just to get his goat, you know? He wins near about every poker game and he's pulled a bunch of pranks on us lately and we figured he'd get right uncomfortable being our figurehead."

Olson interrupted. "You guys elected Newkirk as a _joke_?! Seriously, man, that's just not right."

Now Adams was fighting a guilty look. "It wasn't like any of us wanted him hurt in any way! We thought he'd have to deal with Klink and have extra duties. None of knew any of this stuff was going to happen." His voice dropped to a whisper. "We can break out. My barracks knows the guard schedule and a good spot on the fence to cut a hole. I know we could get half a dozen guys out tonight!"

Olson leaned in to listen to Private Adams and then shook his head. "No, even if we just broke out, what would we do then? Can't go roaming every town in Germany looking for Newkirk. We'd just be shot."

Private Adams fumed. "But it sure ain't fair." Adams had always been a moody one. "Ain't right for no German officer to come take one of us away like this. Bad enough they just come take Hogan for 'questioning'." Olson kept quiet about who had actually taken Hogan away. The details of operations were not given to anyone outside of the core team unless absolutely necessary. Adams wasn't involved in any missions and therefor believed the same story as the Germans. "If they can just come take anyone away, what's to stop them taking any of the rest of us? Or they could just line up some of us and bang bang bang! We're dead as examples."

Olson took a breath in and tried to think quickly. "Look, Klink wouldn't let someone just come kill a bunch of his POWs, it'd look bad on his reports to Berlin." The joking tone didn't go over well with Adams. "Things will be all right."

Adams continued to frown. "It's not all right. They took Newkirk."

Olson patted him. "Newkirk is a tough Cockney. He'll be okay."

Instead of being reassured, Adam shook him off. "It's just not fair, the stupid Germans are all about having a hundred and one rules we have to follow all the time and they don't even follow their own rules." His glower deepened as he looked towards the gate for a moment. Then he turned back to Olson. "Newkirk always wrote my letters you know. He never even made fun of me."

Olson nodded slowly. "It's okay. We'll get him back." He suddenly stepped past Adams to grab the arm of another POW. "Hey, ease up! No throwing rocks!"

A few of the prisoners looked around as Olson objected. The guards shouted angrily for them to stop and with Olson's urging, they grudgingly dropped various small rocks. The glares and disparaging comments continued however.

Kinch's voice made them all turn and pay attention. "All right, that's enough. You guys go on and stay out of trouble." He walked up beside Olson. "I thought I said not to get into trouble. Come on, Olson, throwing stones? Were you trying to get someone shot?"

"Hey, I wasn't..." said Olson.

"He didn't tell anyone to do nothing." said Adams, cutting him off. "But if he had, it's more than you've done, ain't it?" His glare at Kinch made it clear exactly who he faulted for the situation.

Olson began to retort but Kinch brushed him aside. "Look. Colonel Hogan left me in charge. You might not like what's happening, and let me assure you, there's no one in this camp that's happy about any of it. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you or anyone else get themselves shot." He raised his voice to address the entire group. "You guys get away from here. Klink is already looking for excuses to put the whole camp on lockdown and confine us all to barracks."

The rest dispersed slowly, muttering the entire time. Olson gave Adams a light push to start him on his way. "Don't worry, old Kinch knows what's best. I'll talk to you later on. Tell everyone to lay out and not to upset the Krauts, okay?"

Adams shot one last look at Kinch but agreed quietly as he headed across the compound towards the barracks. Olson fell into step beside Kinch as they headed for Barracks Two. "I take it your talk with Klink didn't go as well as we hoped for?"

"Not by half, old chap." Kinch snorted. "Klink is too scared to buck that Major-General even when he's not in camp anymore." They entered the barracks and LeBeau immediately offered the two some coffee. "Thanks, Louis. Klink is a dead end. He doesn't have enough rank or backbone to do anything useful."

The false bunk lifted up and Baker's head poked up. "Guys, I got Robin Hood on the radio but he just had a message to let us know Papa Bear will be back in the den tomorrow or the next day at the latest. I tried to give him a message to let Papa Bear know what's going on but it's a one way chain."

Kinch huffed in frustration. "Great. No way to contact them. By now the Underground is probably already moving Hogan back to us."

Olson shrugged. "If he's on his way back, there's nothing we could do to rush things along anyway."

LeBeau nodded and sat at the table with an air of dejection. "Oui. If Klink cannot get Newkirk back, what could Colonel Hogan do? Even if he were here to convince him to try, Klink still can't intimidate a Major-General. We'd need someone higher in rank to bully the bosch."

Kinch's expression changed slowly from hopeless to almost gleeful. "That's it, LeBeau! You're a genius! We'll just get someone higher in rank!" He headed for the tunnel entrance while laughing. "Hendrich won't know what hit him."

The two left behind at the table looked at each other then each shrugged in unison. Then they both rushed to follow Kinch down the ladder.

* * *

END CHAPTER

Honestly, I'll be surprised if less than half the readers have already figured out Kinch's plan. The guys are all smart and creative themselves, so don't despair, I'm sure they'll come up with a plan to help Newkirk.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm glad to see there's so many Kinchloe fans. He seems to pop up in a lot of my fics a lot more often than I would have thought. I've always thought of him as one of the strongest of them, even though he was not as active outside of camp as the others.

Thank you so much for the reviews. I was surprised to not see any guesses to Kinch's plan! Well, no worries, because now you'll find out what it is.

* * *

Chapter 8

In the damp tunnel, Kinch had hooked up their phone lines and checked their extensive notes to find the schedule he needed. As the other two caught up, he was putting his headphones on and plugging the lines in. He grinned at them before holding up a finger. Listening to the line, he lightened his voice to a whiny tenor. "Hello? Yes I need General Burkhalter at once! This is Kommandant Klink speaking! Yes, I'll hold! Hmmmph!"

LeBeau suddenly grinned in understanding. "We have someone higher in rank!"

Olson joined them in smiles. "Kinch, you're a genius. But why not ask Klink to call Burkhalter?"

Kinch's smile became sly. "Why worry Klink over details? I'm sure he'd say yes. This way we get what we want without bothering Klink about whether he'd have gone along with us." His eyes went distant as a voice spoke in his ear again and his voice altered to Klink's quavering German. "Jawohl, herr General Burkhalter sir! It is so good to hear from you, herr General! What? Yes, get to the point, sir. A Heer Major-General was here this past week, General Burkhalter sir, and he removed one of my prisoners, sir." Kinch paused while the general questioned him. "Yes General Burkhalter but... but, you see I tried to stop him but he outranks me, sir and... what? Of course not, sir, he did not have any authorization at all. I told him he was not allowed to brutalize the POWs but he did not listen, sir."

Carter popped up behind Olson and LeBeau looking worried until he saw Kinch. He whispered to the two quietly. "Gee I thought we were sunk for a minute. Kinch is really good at sounding like Klink."

LeBeau nodded. "I still think they're related." Olson snickered at that while Carter merely nodded in reply. LeBeau leaned in closer to Carter. "Kinch is trying to get Burkhalter to help bring Newkirk back."

Carter's face lit up and he started to exclaim loudly but Olson's hand clamped over his mouth. "Mmmph." Olson pointed at Kinch still whining on the phone in Klink's voice and put a finger over his lips. Carter nodded and waited for Olson to remove his hand. "That's a great idea."

Both Olson and LeBeau agreed and all three waited while Kinch finished up the call with a string of boot-licking that was interrupted by Burkhalter hanging up on him. As Kinch sighed heavily and wiped sweat off his brow, he smiled at the three. "I think we're in. Burkhalter was really angry. I think I made it clear the insult was as much to him and all of the Luftwaffe as it was to Klink, so he said he would 'look into it personally'. I got the impression that heads are gonna roll."

LeBeau bounced on his heels. "Oui! That is wonderful! As long as Newkirk's head isn't one of the heads rolling!"

Carter wrung his hands, his eager expression turning to worry at LeBeau's quip. "I hope he's okay. General Burkhalter will find him right away, right?"

Kinch sobered up and reached to put a steadying hand on Carter. "From what he said, he'll be checking right away but he is a member of the High Command Staff too, so it might take him some time. We just have to hope that Hendrich is somewhere easy to find and that he hasn't hurt Newkirk too much before Burkhalter can get to him."

Olson grunted, his good mood evaporating. "Yeah, and that Burkhalter doesn't end up shooting Newkirk for being in the wrong place, just so he doesn't have to deal with any of it."

Looking grimly determined, Carter straightened up. "Well, he can't do that. He has to bring Newkirk back here. There's rules and stuff." He stalked off down the tunnel towards his lab. "I'm almost finished with the smoke bombs."

Kinch looked at the remaining two. "At least Hogan will be back soon. I don't know exactly what I'll tell him when he gets back and finds this huge mess though."

LeBeau straightened himself up as tall as he was able and gave Kinch a cheeky grin full of bravado. "Simple. We'll let Newkirk explain all of it. After all, he is the elected official Man of Confidence and he'll be back by then." He walked off towards the tunnel entrance.

"Oh to have his confidence. How does he stay so positive?" Olson started down the same tunnel himself.

Kinch shut down the radio equipment before following. "He doesn't. He and Newkirk both pretend nothing will go wrong in hopes that it won't. That's why they insult each other all the time. Life won't kill either of them with bad words said between them."

"Do you really believe that?" Olson paused at the base of the ladder.

"They're both still here, aren't they?"

Olson gave him a long look. "No. Newkirk's not." He climbed up into the barracks leaving Kinch alone in the dimly lit tunnel feeling cold at heart suddenly.

* * *

Newkirk lay on his side on the carpet of a hotel room and concentrated on breathing. Each breath in was slow and even and hurt like needles were sticking into his ribs. He would hold it for two seconds and then let it out just as slowly. His arms were cuffed behind him and the position didn't help his breathing at all. Blood dripped from his nose and ran along his upper lip before trailing across his cheek into his ear. The little trickles were annoying him but right now he just wanted to lie still and revel in the feeling of the soft carpet under his throbbing head.

Hendrich was proving to be extremely good at beating people. Newkirk wasn't certain how good he was at whatever his official Nazi job was. But he was stellar at beating POWs. Especially mouthy British airmen. His underling Otto was a quick study as well. So far Jager had been regulated to guarding doors and driving the car and such, but right now, Newkirk would bet that he wasn't too shabby at beating British airmen either.

After a few long moments, Newkirk cracked open his eyes and blinked to clear them as best he could. The room was quiet and completely empty of Nazis. He watched the carpet getting stained with blood for another moment before beginning to shift himself around. Otto had left his hands cuffed behind his back after his latest humiliation. The regular routine was that anytime Hendrich wanted to beat his prisoner or... or do other things, he took the precaution of cuffing Newkirk first.

Newkirk really tried to take that as a compliment of some sort. Even though he was outnumbered three-to-one, even though he'd been beaten and starved the entire time since they'd left camp however long ago that had been, even though Newkirk was forbidden by regulations to defend himself in any way against his captors and even though Hendrich had hobbled him most effectively simply by the threat against his mates back at camp if Newkirk did anything out of line... he still felt the need to restrain one lone RAF airman in order to beat him.

Sitting up took a lot of his energy and he simply sat there, legs stretched out in front of himself, leaned forward trying to find a position that didn't feel like it was crushing the broken rib any more than necessary. The blood that had been following the trail across his face now decided to drip across his lips and patter down onto his right pants' leg. Staring at the expanding pattern it was making distracted him for a bit. Then he began the laborious process of getting the tiny lockpick out of his mouth. The thin bit of metal was wedged between his upper teeth and cheek and had cut the inside of his mouth a few times when Hendrich or Otto punched him in the wrong spot. He spat it onto the carpet and inched around until he could pluck it up with his cuffed hands.

Despite his battered condition, unlocking the simple cuff only took a moment. He didn't bother to unlock both cuffs. It would take less time to get back into them anyway. He laughed softly to himself. "Wouldn't want to get caught out of me cuffs." he croaked. "Might get beaten up for that."

Still chuckling to himself, he managed to lever himself to his feet and started roaming about the room checking things. He tucked his precious lockpick back into his cheek. The window opened onto a four story drop into an open courtyard. No way out of there, even if he could risk escaping. The more he walked about the room, the more his head cleared. Going to the desk, he looked at the scattered papers for a few seconds before the soft pat-pat noise alerted him to his blood dripping on the polished wood.

Suddenly he realized he was leaving traces of blood all over the room and panicked. Finding a discarded cleaning cloth in the small rubbish bin, he carefully wiped away the evidence and checked around the rest of the room. Pressing the cloth to his nose carefully, he lifted the room's window open a crack and then went back to rummaging through the papers for anything interesting. He really didn't have any reason to do so, but it was better than simply laying on the floor like a useless git.

The papers were all routine junk or things that didn't make any sense to Newkirk. Moving to the door, he pressed his ear up against the wood and heard Hendrich's voice. Listening to him for a few minutes let him know he was talking to some other Nazi associate that they were meeting soon at the hotel. Suddenly he froze and closed his eyes to listen harder to the German being spoken in the next room.

"Ja ja... it has been some time but we shall have some fun. Ja, like old times. This time I shall bring the toy." Another pause before Hendrich spoke again. "Ja, bring him along, I'm certain he will enjoy it as well."

There was a pause and then a deep laugh. "Nein, not French, I found a Englander for us to enjoy."

Newkirk stepped away from the door. A wash of cold rippled over his skin leaving him feeling chilled. He went directly to the window and stared out of it, wondering if that four story drop was really so bad. It would probably kill him. At least he'd break bones. Was that really a huge risk compared to staying here to wait for what Hendrich was happily planning in the next room?

A crisp clear memory surfaced of Hendrich speaking directly to his face while Otto held him securely by the slightly too long hair on top of his head.

"Just remember, my dear corporal, that we are not so very far away that I can not send Otto to pick up your friends to take your place. So feel free to escape, if you like. I'm certain that the American and the Frenchman will prove just as entertaining as you."

Newkirk blinked slowly and reached for the window. Pushing the blood-soaked cleaning rag out, he let it fall into the courtyard to blow into some hedges. Then he slid the window shut carefully so no one could hear the soft click.

Returning to the rug, he settled down onto it and reached behind himself to refasten the cuff onto his free wrist.

It wasn't so bad. After all, he'd known signing up for His Majesty's Royal Air Force might lead to his own death. He'd been lucky to survive so long anyway.

Besides, there was always the chance of the Colonel showing up to save the day. He had a knack of doing that whenever all hope was lost. Plus, there was always the Underground. They might help him.

Laying himself back down on his side, he listened to the soft snap of the cuff locking around his wrist and closed his eyes to wait.

* * *

End Chapter


	9. Chapter 9

I'm so pleased that people are still liking this enough to review. So, here's a new chapter, early! And now longer! With more words! And stuff! And Klink!

I really do love to hear what parts you like best, and I know, Newkirk is catching heck right now. Someone has to be in trouble, and he drew the short straw(probably because they didn't let him hold the straws). I promise, thrilling heroics are in his future.

Huge thank yous to TinySprite for putting up with me, Bits and Pieces for all the chatter we share about Hogan's Heroes and life, all of the great HH authors who inspire me to write and a special thanks to SamRosinenbomber for posting the new fic that really lifted my mood when I read it. Artwork WILL happen.

Also, thank you to all you readers who are sticking it out to see how Newkirk gets out of all this!

On to the fic reading.

* * *

Chapter 9

Klink paced the length of his office, hands clasped behind his back while Schultz stood patiently. Pausing at the window, the Oberst checked the compound and gestured dramatically. "Look, there's prisoners taunting the guards again. I should put them all in the cooler! Let them realize that the Iron Eagle is not to be trifled with."

Schultz looked dutifully and then gazed at Klink. "Should I go and take them to the cooler?" He did not sound enthused over the idea.

Throwing his hands up, Klink moaned. "Nooo. It could cause the prisoners to riot." He paced away from the window again. "How can I fix this? How can I enforce the iron discipline when any action against one of the prisoners might set them all off in a revolt?"

"Perhaps... you could just be nice to them?" said Schultz.

"Dummkoph! If I do not enforce the rules, they will revolt and overrun us all! I will have to order the guards to put down the unruly prisoners and if prisoners die, it's on my head!" Klink folded his arms and went back to the window. He couldn't help himself. Every time he looked out of his office, he half expected to see his prisoners taking over the entire camp.

"I do not want to hurt anyone." said Schultz quietly.

"I don't want to hurt anyone either, Schultz! The prisoners have always loved me as a father figure. Now..." He waved his hands. "Now thanks to Hendrich, everything is ruined. There is nothing I can do."

Schultz stepped over hesitantly. "Maybe you could do something that isn't so nice but maybe is nice? Then the prisoners would not be so unhappy. But!" He held up one pudgy finger. "But they would respect you. Because you were nice when you did not have to be nice."

Klink frowned at him. "What could I do? Give them extra food? They would see right through that." He grumped to himself. "If someone gets injured, we probably don't even have enough medical supplies to treat them." Bending to watch a small knot of prisoners walking across the compound to their barracks, Klink's frown deepened. "I want you to go check on the medical supplies that the prisoner medic has. What's his name? Wilcox?"

"Sergeant Wilson, sir." Schultz swallowed. "He does not have many supplies though, sir. The prisoners told me so. Some of them won't even go to see him. They don't want to use the last medical supplies in case someone else needs them more." He paused before adding. "I told Wilson that I would ask for more things. He said they need aspirin and antiseptics for cleaning wounds and bandages."

Klink started to wave him off and then began to think. "We need more medical supplies anyway, and if I get a little bit extra, who's to know? And giving Sergeant Wilson some supplies can only make the prisoners see that I am not a bad guy." He turned abruptly to Schultz. "I want you to send Langenscheidt to town to get supplies. If it doesn't placate them, at least we will have supplies to treat anyone who ends up shot." Klink had paled at the thought of shooting but tried to pretend he was gruff and stern.

"Yes, herr Kommandant, but maybe you could also try to get Colonel Hogan back? Or if you could get Newkirk back? The prisoners are very angry because both of them are gone. They would be less angry if one of them came back to the camp." Schultz did not add that he thought Colonel Hogan could probably fix everything if he was here. Even Newkirk might be able to make the other prisoners happier. The Englander was a clever boy. Mischievous yes, but he was also clever.

"Schultz! If I could get Colonel Hogan or Newkirk back don't you think I would have already?!" shouted Klink. "Colonel Hogan was taken by the Abwehr! No one can tell the Abwehr to bring back a prisoner even if he is a prisoner of war!" He groaned then. "I can't even tell Major-General Hendrich to bring back Corporal Newkirk. He would just laugh at me and remind me that he outranks me. He could have me sent to the Russian Front!"

"Ja, herr kommandant." said Schultz. "It is too bad that you are not a big shot general like General Burkhalter. If General Burkhalter told Major-General Hendrich to bring Newkirk back, he would do it then." Schultz nodded firmly.

"That is it!" Klink grabbed Schultz by the arms. "I will call General Burkhalter! He can make Hendrich bring back the Englander and the prisoners will be happier and then they won't riot and everything can go back to normal!" He stopped suddenly. "But if I tell Burkhalter that I'm missing a prisoner, he'll send ME to the Russian Front."

Schultz tutted. "Nein, herr kommandant! He cannot blame you for the Major-General ordering you to not interfere. The Major-General is the one who took the prisoner without proper authorization."

"That's right!" Klink became hopeful. "He's the one in the wrong! He shouldn't have even been here." said Klink disdainfully. "Why, he isn't in the Luftwaffe. Taking one of my prisoners without any paperwork! It just isn't done! I will report his actions to General Burkhalter and then we'll see who ends up at the Russian Front!"

Neither of the Germans noticed the shadow near the window dart across the compound. If they had, they might have wondered why a prisoner had been listening just outside the office.

* * *

Kinch and LeBeau looked up as Olson and Carter entered the Colonel's quarters. Kinch spoke up quietly. "How is it out there?"

Olson shrugged elaborately but Carter answered. "There's a lot of very unhappy POWs in this camp right now. They were upset that Colonel Hogan was taken away and now they took Newkirk and now everyone is afraid they might be next." Carter looked around sheepishly. "Heck, I kind get nervous thinking about it, and I know what's going on. We can't blame them much."

LeBeau agreed. "It is hard to reassure people when we can't tell them that Colonel Hogan wasn't really taken for questioning."

Kinch said "Well, we can't tell the whole camp what's going on. Colonel Hogan will be back soon, maybe within a day. That will help calm everything down."

"Oui." said LeBeau. "Colonel Hogan will make everyone see that things will turn out right."

There was a quiet moment until Olson spoke up. "Who's gonna tell Hogan we lost Newkirk though?"

"Mon dieu!" spat LeBeau. "We did not 'lose' Newkirk! He will be back."

Holding up a hand defensively, Olson tried to reason with the excitable Frenchman. "Look, I know, Burkhalter said he'd look into it but that doesn't mean that he's going to find Newkirk in time or even if he's going to help him. The guy is a Nazi, he might just shoot him."

LeBeau puffed up angrily. "Non! Newkirk will come back! You will see!" He stormed out, fuming under his breath in French.

Kinch sighed as Olson apologized about upsetting LeBeau. "It's okay, I'll talk to him later. There's about a hundred things I need to do 'later'. How did Colonel Hogan ever keep up with all this stuff?"

Carter shrugged. "He was always doing stuff? I mean, he had you to help him, but you don't have a Kinch to help you because you're Kinch. Of course, Newkirk was helping since he was supposed to be you, I mean, you know, in charge..."

Kinch was just opening his mouth to tell Carter to stop, but just then LeBeau came rushing back in. "Kinch!"

Olson spoke up quickly. "Hey, I'm really sorry..."

LeBeau put a hand on him, shaking his head. "Non, quiet! Kinch! Adams just said he overheard Klink saying he's going to call Burkhalter! If he talks to Burkhalter and finds out someone already reported Hendrich and it wasn't him, even Klink will suspect something! What do we do?" LeBeau grabbed Kinch's arm tightly. "Burkhalter will know something is up!"

"Shoot... shooot... " said Kinch. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come on, we can intercept the call!" They all rushed for the tunnel, letting Kinch go first. LeBeau plugged in the phone lines while Kinch grabbed the handset and earphones. "Quick LeBeau!"

"Now, try it now!" LeBeau wrung his hands as he stood next to Carter, both of them anxiously watching the black radioman listening to the earphones. "Well?"

"Nothing... wait... he's dialing. We got it." Kinch waited for Klink to come onto the line and affected a light tone in heavily accented German. "How may I connect your call?" He waited and then continued in the same bored tone. "Please hold."

Kinch handed the headphones and mouthpiece to Olson. Olson cleared his throat before nodding. "General Burkhalter's office, please state your business." He waited while Klink gave him a longwinded explanation. "Please hold Colonel Plink, I shall see if the General is available."

Flipping the mouthpiece off, Kinch took the equipment back and straightened himself up, trying to get into the mindset of the overweight general. Finally he switched it on. "Klink! What do you want?" He scowled at nothing as he spoke in General Burkhalter's voice. "What do you mean, you lost a prisoner! Did you have an escape? What? Hendrich? He's not in the Luftwaffe! Why did you allow this, Klink?" Kinch huffed angrily. "I will look into it, Klink! I can not believe that you allowed anyone to remove a POW from your camp without proper authorization!"

Olson had his hand over his mouth making little choking noises as he struggled not to laugh. Carter and LeBeau watched intently, trying to figure out the other side of the conversation.

Kinch barked out the German with an expert flair in a remarkable mimicry of Burkhalter. "I said that I would take care of things, Klink! You do not need to ask about the details! And furthermore, you will not allow another removal of a prisoner without all the proper written authorization! I! Don't! Care! Unless it is the Fuhrer himself, you will require the proper forms! Am I understood? Good!" He hung up without waiting for Klink's goodbyes. Wiping his face with both hands, Kinch finally relaxed. "Well, seems he bought it. Now both of them know what they need to know."

Carter's eyes were wide. "Kinch I will never get used to how well you speak German. I think you're part German."

Kinch rolled his eyes and turned to Olson. "Okay, so keep questioning the guards. When Schnitzer comes to camp later today, I'll ask him if he's seen anything. Right now, I have to figure out how to report all of this to London."

LeBeau's eyes widened. "You haven't told them yet?"

"Would you rush to tell London?" Olson snorted.

* * *

When a special roll call came midday, the prisoners of Barracks Two exchanged significant looks but began to file out slowly. Carter's voice rose in pitch as he grabbed at the edge of Kinch's jacket. "Kinch! Why are they calling us out now?"

"Calm down, Carter." Kinch motioned the others out as he stood by the door. "Klink is just nervy. The men are acting like they're going to riot, we should have expected extra roll calls." He put his hand in the middle of Carter's back to nudge him out the door.

Olson trotted over to take his place in line. "Hey, guess the Krauts think we're all plotting now, hey?" He elbowed LeBeau who drew his coat around himself tighter and glared. "The guards were doubled along the outer fencelines too."

"Like that would help them if we all decided to turn on them." LeBeau gave Olson another glare to make sure he knew the Frenchman hadn't forgiven him for his pessimism about Newkirk's chances.

"Ease up, LeBeau." said Kinch. "No one is revolting against Klink yet. Remember, the Colonel is on his way back. Burkhalter is looking for Hendrich. We just need to keep things running here for a little while longer." They all lined up and waited while Langenschiedt counted heads.

Klink was standing in the middle of the compound as all of the barracks guards reported in. Then he strode back and forth twice before speaking. "I'm sure that all of you prisoners have noticed by now that your Man of Confidence Corporal Newkirk was... removed... by Major-General Hendrich." He paused while a dangerous rumble made it way around the camp. The prisoners glared and muttered and Klink fingered his riding crop a bit nervously before clearing his throat and continuing. "At any rate... this means that a new representative needs to be assigned. As kommandant of the camp, I shall assign a prisoner to take over these duties."

A voice rose from the ranks of prisoners as Private Adams stepped forward a little. "We elected one already. Sergeant Kinch is the POW representative now."

Kinch stood a little straighter in his place at the front of Barracks Two. A second rumble, of approval this time, came from the prisoners. Klink looked around and stiffened his posture. "Sergeant Kinchloe is not an appropriate choice. So I have chosen..."

Carter stepped forward and spoke over Klink. "Begging the kommandant's pardon, sir but we have elected our representative."

LeBeau stomped forward himself to shout loudly. "Oui! And we gave you a 'more appropriate' choice for our representative! Corporal Newkirk! And we all see how that choice was treated!" Shouts of agreement came from many throats making Klink even more nervous. Several guards clutched their rifles more tightly. LeBeau ignored it to shout louder. "IF you want a 'more appropriate' man to represent us POWs, then go get Newkirk back!"

There was an uproar of shouts and demands from the POWs then. Klink was stepping back and beginning to look paniced as the barracks guards began to try to regain control over the unruly prisoners. Kinch worried that they would have a unplanned riot soon. He stepped forward, giving Langenschiedt a reassuring nod. Raising his voice to a parade ground bellow, he shouted, "Quiet!" It only took a moment for everyone to settle back down with only a few mutters. "Colonel Klink, I am willing to continue with my duties as the POW Man of Confidence, sir." He engaged in a stare-down with Klink. Perhaps the wise choice would have been to allow Klink to assign a new figurehead. But the men were too on edge to allow it now. "Sir. Considering the record of the last two prisoner representatives, I would suggest to you that you allow the men's choice to stand."

Klink had begun to wring his hands and visibly composed himself and straightened, tucking the riding crop back under his arm and walking over to stand in front of the Barracks Two formation. Kinch could see the sweat on his face and a slight tremor in his hand as he gestured. Klink's voice was steady however. "As a gesture for goodwill to my prisoners, I will allow their choice of representative to stand for now." When Kinch nodded politely in reply and a soft murmur of approval came from the assembled prisoners, Klink gained confidence. "I will also inform you prisoners that I have doubled the guards at the perimeter and ensured that no escape attempts will succeed." A mutter of grumbles made Klink move on quickly. "I have also taken steps to prevent any additional removals of prisoners from this stalag by unapproved personnel. Furthermore, I have enlisted some assistance from General Burkhalter in attempting to locate and regain custody of Corporal Newkirk. I have every confidence that he will be returned soon if..." Klink faltered and changed his words quickly. "He will be returned soon."

Kinch listened to the rumble of confusion. The men were uncertain whether to believe Klink's promises but they sounded more positive than before at least. He cleared his throat loudly and the voices died out. "Thank you Kommandant Klink."

"Yes yes... well... " said Klink. He suddenly decided to try to keep the new slightly positive tone. "Prisoners dismissed." He strode quickly back to the kommandantur, gesturing for an extra guard to take a place on the office steps.

Several of the other prisoners gathered around Kinch along with the usual crew. Some of the other barracks chiefs nodded or reached out to slap his back, expressing their support. Others made disparaging remarks about Klink's attempt to unseat their chosen leader. Kinch nodded back, thanking them and probably looking more uncomfortable than confident.

Private Adams stepped up and glowered at Kinch. "Damn Krauts ain't telling us who gets to boss us." He frowned at Kinch for a long moment. "Master race, my Aunt Betty's fat butt." He leaned in closer. "You better get Newkirk back though. My girl is expecting a romantic letter and I can't write that mushy stuff."

* * *

End Chapter

I hope you enjoyed your early, extra long, extra Klink chapter! Thank you for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Another early update, because I know some people wanted a Newkirk chapter. I'm not certain you'll be all that pleased, but at least there's a light at the end of the tunnel...

Many thanks to the readers who have stuck with it and to TinySprite my most faithful beta and Bits And Pieces for encouragement. Also, to the twitter crew, scattered though we might be, still around for each other.

Finally, thank you to all the reviewers. I value each and every one.

* * *

CHAPTER 10

His knees hurt. There were a lot of bits and pieces of Newkirk that were protesting their recent treatment but at the moment, his knees were the loudest complaints. Newkirk lifted his head to peer around the room. He was kneeling, again, in the middle of the larger sitting room of the hotel suite. Even the thick rug wasn't helping to pad his sore joints. Trying to straighten his back, Newkirk groaned softly as the stretch pulled at his shoulders. The metal cuffs were back in place, adding to his levels of discomfort. His wrists were raw and cut and having them cuffed behind his back wasn't helping his back or shoulders.

His request to have them removed, though politely phrased and delivered with a humble tone, had led to Otto kicking him in the thigh. His cursing about being kicked led to a few blows. Newkirk decided to wait quietly after that. If his captors didn't remove his bonds, they would leave him alone at some point and he'd simply unlock them himself.

Right now Otto was busy bringing in bottles of wine and Schnapps. The Englishman watched him warily but he seemed to distracted with preparations for that afternoon to bother with any torments at the moment.

When Otto left, Newkirk listened for a few moments before he began to tongue his lockpick out of his cheek. He nearly swallowed it when the door opened and Jager came in. Luckily the guard was busy balancing a container, towel and a small case while trying to close the door and didn't see Newkirk's facial antics as he shoved the lockpick back into place.

By the time Jager had set all of his items on the table and turned around, Newkirk was giving him a bland but wary look. Jager had been mostly hands-off with the prisoner. He hadn't helped him in any way but to this point, he had never done more than a typical guard. Now he was smiling at the kneeling POW.

"Now." Jager bent to peer at Newkirk's bruised face. "Those are some very nasty bruises." He reached out and Newkirk jerked back, beginning to shake involuntarily. "Be still." He felt around the swollen left eye carefully. "Open your eye." Newkirk tried to pull away and Jager reached to cup one hand behind his head. His grip was firm but careful too and Newkirk held still and let him poke and prod the worst places.

When Newkirk flinched at a particularly swollen bruise, Jager grimaced. "Ja. It hurts. I know." He retrieved the supplies he had brought in and wet a clean cloth to begin blotting his face. "I will clean the blood off. It is just water, ja? It won't hurt." The coolness of the wet rag felt good and Newkirk tried to be still. "Close your eyes or it will drip into them." Obeying, Newkirk sat patiently while his face was wiped clean. When he was able to reopen his eyes, he saw concern in Jager's expression. "You have a few little cuts. This will sting, ja? But you must be still."

The styptic pencil he used to close the cuts did sting and burn. When Newkirk jerked or flinched, Jager made soothing noises and admonished him to hold still. "This one is near your eye. Be still, bitte. Would not want to get this in your eye, ja?" While his patient hissed in pain, Jager tutted over him and dabbed the cut. "There. Much better, yes? Now I will remove your handcuffs so you may take off your shirts and stretch some. But you must behave. Don't touch your face, bitte. Do you understand?" Jager bent to look him in the eyes. "You understand, Englander? Behave nicely."

After a moment, Newkirk nodded slowly. Jager retrieved a small key and unlocked him, letting him get to his feet and walk about some. Indicating he should undress, Jager moved a few steps aside and waited.

Hesitating warily, Newkirk finally dragged his uniform blouse and pullover off, pausing and eying Jager again before removing his undershirt as well. He jumped nervously when Jager tutted again.

"Come here." said Jager. Instead Newkirk backed away. "Nein. I told you, you must be good." Shaking a finger, Jager approached slowly and checked the worst injuries on his chest and back. "I am not hurting you, be still."

Newkirk couldn't help the shivers and he yelped when Jager pressed on his broken rib.

"Ah, does it hurt much?" Jager poked around it more.

"Yes." said Newkirk through gritted teeth. "You Krauts broke my rib. Of course it bloody 'urts."

"Hmmm." Jager went back to the table and opened up a case. "These will be more comfortable." He held up a set of heavy manacles with a length of chain between them.

Newkirk moved away around the edge of the room. "No cuffs at all would be more comfortable."

"Nein." Jager gave a little gesture. "Do not make this hard." He tilted his head. "I can call Otto in to help me restrain you. Is that what you want, Englander?"

"No." whispered Newkirk. "No, I don't want." He stopped moving and let Jager approach. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop the shivers of fear as his hands were pulled behind him again. The heavy cuffs snapped into place around his wrists and the weight of the chain pulled at him. "What will 'appen?" He had a very good idea but wanted to hear it for some reason.

Jager shook his head. "Do not worry about it. You just behave well. When Major-General Hendrich's guests arrive, you behave well for them, ja?"

Newkirk swallowed carefully and gave Jager a pleading look. "Why? Why is 'e doing this? Why can't you 'elp me?" It was a slim chance that the younger of the two guards might feel enough empathy to want to help the prisoner.

Jager gave a soft laugh and came close to look into Newkirk's eyes. "Help you? Major-General Hendrich told me when his guests are done, I might get a turn on you myself." His eyes glinted with the evil humor. "Now get back on your knees and wait like a good prisoner."

Slowly lowering himself back onto the rug, Newkirk stared at Jager and began to wonder if he'd survive the evening. Worse, he began to wonder if he wanted to.

* * *

Outside the hotel

General Burkhalter hauled his considerable bulk out of the back seat of his car and huffed at his aide. "This had better be a decent hotel. The last one was filthy."

The lean aide nodded. "My apologies, herr general, this is a very good establishment. Also, it is the only one within an hour's drive."

"Well that narrows your choice, doesn't it?" Burkhalter looked the outside of building over. "Beggars can't be choosers then." As he walked inside, he noted two German Colonels and a Major heading up a set of stairs. Two sergeants followed after them while three others headed towards the hotel bar. "We shall be lucky to find a room, Friedrich. This hotel seems popular among the Heer officers."

His aide smiled slightly. "There are quite a few Heer officers arriving. However, I believe they will find a room for you, my general." Friedrich gestured towards the lobby sitting area. "If you would wish to relax for a bit, I shall arrange rooms and check the kitchens."

"Danke Friedrich, make sure they have clean linens." Burkhalter turned his back on the aide, confident in the man's ability to arrange for the very best on his commanding officer's behalf. His two guards flanked him silently, moving to stand behind the chair he picked. The cushions were worn but ample to pad his seat comfortably. One of the hotel boys approached immediately to ask if the general would prefer some coffee or refreshments.

"Brandy, if you have any good stuff in stock." Burkhalter eyed the young man as he scurried away. Rank had it's drawbacks in responsibilities but the privileges were many. A general who showed up at any establishment would get the lion's share of attention. He had the passing thought that the other German officers upstairs had better not have expected much from the hotel staff, he intended to keep them busy taking proper care of himself.

His brandy and Friedrich both arrived at the same time. Friedrich with news that the kitchen was passable and a meal had been arranged for the general in the restaurant.

Burkhalter sighed as he got back to his feet. "Fine then. Come Friedrich, join me for a meal. Am I to assume they will be preparing suitable quarters for me?"

"Jawohl, herr general. One of the better suites." Friedrich seemed vaguely amused as the wait staff of the little restaurant rushed about setting the table as the general approached. He waved the extra staff away with one languid motion and moved the chair out to seat his commander. "I was assured the linens would be clean and the rooms do not have vermin."

Sitting heavily, Burkhalter chuckled. "Good. Now perhaps we can take our time eating. Nothing else is happening that needs my attention, I assume?"

Friedrich took the opposite chair. "Nein, herr general. Nothing that I am aware of."

* * *

The Heer sergeants that had gone to the hotel bar instead of accompanying their Heer officers upstairs for the 'activities' eyed each other warily at first.

Werner settled at the bar first and held up a finger for the bartender to bring him a beer. By the time his beer arrived, his two new companions had taken the seats to one side of him. "So, which one of you is attached to the other Oberst?"

One rolled his eyes. "That would be my colonel, Gunter here is with the major." He snorted at Gunter rolling his eyes as well. "Two peas in a pod, despite the rank differences, if you take my meaning."

Gunter took his own beer in hand and downed several swallows. "Ja and when they get in trouble for what they're doing up there, do you think we will be left alone? Nein, they'll take us down with them." He poked his companion. "You watch, Dieter, when the authorities find out about their tastes in entertainment, we'll be shot along with the deviants."

"Hush that talk, Gunter. I tell you, that's why we're down here in the bar and not up in the room. They can't shoot us when we aren't even there." Dieter didn't seem all that convinced.

The bartender wiped the smooth wooden surface carefully and gestured at the already empty beer steins. Dieter nodded in reply and the bartender refilled all three and moved just far enough away to not be conspicuous in his listening.

Werner relaxed slightly now that he knew the two other guards shared his distaste. "Gunter is right. Himmler decreed deviant behavior like this to be grounds for the most severe punishments, we're more likely to be shot than released. Officers might get away with it."

Dieter protested. "It's not like they're raping citizens anyway. No one cares about a few missing prisoners. Besides, we should just keep quiet."

Gunter spoke up quietly. "That's easy for you to say. That Major-General Hendrich and his minion Otto give me the creeps. Last time, I swear, Hendrich was looking at me way too much for my piece of mind."

Werner laughed mirthlessly. "It's not a piece of your mind that he wants."

Even Gunter couldn't help but chuckle at the joke, albeit an uneasy laugh. None of the three noticed the bartender leaving.

Tending bar meant that a person overheard a lot of things that you overlooked or deliberately forgot about. But... if what the guards were talking about was happening right upstairs... the bartender paled. The hotel itself could be implicated as hosting that sort of illegal activity and who knows where the arrests would stop?

He stood in the shadows of the doorway between the bar and restaurant. What could he do at this point? His eyes lifted to gaze at the ceiling, as if to see through the floor to the sick twisted party happening above. He needed a high ranking officer.

A loud voice declaring the food to be inedible made him turn to look into the dining room. A Luftwaffe general was complaining loudly to his young waiter about his meal.

Setting his face grimly, the bartender headed in that direction. Maybe the general would dismiss him out of hand but at least he'd have made an attempt to stop the people. It was the least any decent sort of German citizen could do.

* * *

Burkhalter had just sent the waiter back to the kitchens to try to find something edible. He turned to his aide, feeling even more annoyed when he saw Friedrich's look of amusement. "How can any cook make bratwurst taste so terrible?"

Friedrich spread the fingers of one hand, lifting the other to try to hide the slight smile. "Perhaps he made an effort, my general?"

"You find too many things amusing, Friedrich." Burkhalter snorted as his aide laughed softly. "If you were not so good at your job, I'd replace you with someone with no sense of humor at all."

"Jawohl, mein general." Friedrich didn't seem very worried.

Burkhalter looked around the room. His aide suited him very well. But he had to threaten to fire him every so often. It was the way things were supposed to be between them.

"Pardon, herr general, a moment of your time?" The hesitant voice came from a mousy little man that looked old enough to be a grandfather. The apron he wore was mostly clean and told Burkhalter he was probably staff.

"Are you the abominable excuse for a cook here?" Burkhalter's glare made the man shrink back. "If so, don't bother apologizing, just make something edible."

"No, my apologies, herr general. I am just a bartender. But please, there is... there is something you should attend to, herr general." Seeing his words had captured the officer's attention, he straightened up more. "There is a Heer Major-General here, he is... he and his guests are upstairs and they are..." He trailed off and twisted the corner of his apron in his hands nervous. "I was told, that is, I overheard that they are engaging in activities that would cast a poor light on our illustrious military. Their behavior does not befit a proper German officer. This Major-General Hendrich has several other officers as his guests and..."

Burkhalter cut him off. "Hendrich? Heer Major-General Hendrich is here?! In this hotel?!" He surged to his feet angrily. Burkhalter had already been in a poor mood from the state of the roads he'd traveled on for hours, only to find a dingy hotel and a terrible excuse for a meal. Hendrich had been a side concern since Klink had called to attempt to enlist his help. But the man had insulted the Luftwaffe and therefor was defying the authority of Burkhalter himself. His eyes narrowed. "Tell me which room. I will take care of this upstart myself. Where are my guards? Friedrich, commandeer some of those troops we passed outside. This fool Hendrich is about to learn that no one defies me." He watched his aide rush to the front of the lobby. Gesturing to his two guards, he told them to fetch their arms from the car. "This Hendrich may show himself a bigger fool than I think considering he has a few of his like-minded foolish friends with him."

He stood, smiling to himself and rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for his aide to bring the reinforcements.

* * *

End Chapter

See? Things happen. Happy? I hope so! Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

Well, I think you've all been on the edge of your seats for long enough. This chapter is more than twice as long as my usual chapters. Sorry about that. I did up the rating to *T*, thank you for the reminder Abracadabra. I intended to do it before and forgot.

My usual profuse thanks to my beta TinySprite who is absolutely brilliant and has already assisted with the next fic! (which won't involve any torture of Newkirk... unless you count having to eat French cooking...) and to Bits and Pieces for the continual support and encouragement. Also to the Twitter crew who give me feedback and encouragement.

A huge thank you to all of you guys who review and send me feedback. I appreciate all of it. Also, I'm pleased that Burkhalter is proving so popular.

* * *

Chapter 11

Newkirk knelt in the middle of the room and tried rather desperately to stop shaking. It seemed like he was surrounded by a horde of Nazis and he'd counted heads. It wasn't a horde. It was four officers. Well, his eyes flicked up to check Otto and Jager standing to one side smiling and nodding at the major's jokes. Four officers, two enlisted... his eyes searched for and found the extras... and three unknown qualities. Those were enlisted guards as well. But that was nine Nazis and one lone POW in a room that was entirely too small to have this many Germans in it with him.

A loud laugh made him twitch sideways but he righted himself before he leaned too far. Otto took it quite amiss if he wasn't in proper position. As far as Newkirk was able to ascertain, Otto was the one in charge of making sure the prisoner behaved. Otto was a sadistic bastard and if the bugger accidentally fell out of the window, Newkirk wouldn't shed a tear.

One of the colonels was looking at him again, this time smiling. Several of the Germans had lost items of clothing already. They were quite casual about it. That told Newkirk they were used to this sort of scenario. If anyone had ever tried to bet Newkirk that he'd wish for a German to beat him, he would have laughed at taking a fool's money so easily. But right now, he'd greatly prefer for the officers to hit him than what they'd planned. He blinked a trickle of blood out of his eye suddenly. Not that they hadn't practiced a bit of the hitting stuff earlier as well.

He worked the lockpick to between his teeth and held it there carefully. At this point, he'd rather have it hidden in between his fingers where it would be ready to use if he decided he needed the manacles off in a rush.

Newkirk tried very hard to steel himself, to put on a brave front and think his way out of this. He was certain that if Colonel Hogan was in this predicament... he derailed that train of thought. Hogan was too smart to be put into this predicament in the first place. But if Hogan ended up here, he certainly wouldn't be shaking and struggling not to hyperventilate and pass out on the floor.

One of the German Colonels stepped past him, reaching to put one hand on his head and stroke his hair. Newkirk froze in place until the fingers left him. Only then could he start breathing again. Colonel Hogan wouldn't be panicking this way. But Colonel Hogan wasn't a poor Cockney natural-born coward who was in way over his head. His breath hitched slightly as he tried to slow the hyperventilating that threatened to make him faint.

Hendrich had a little smug smile on his face and Newkirk paled each time he turned that gaze on him. Hendrich had enjoyed his prisoner's terror for the past days. He'd enjoyed abusing him and offering the false hope and mental torment of making him choose between this end result or the same situation for one or more of his mates. The thing Hendrich had never realized was that every time he reinforced that Newkirk was choosing the torture over betraying his friends, he made it a tiny bit easier for the POW to endure it all. Newkirk was the sole representative of England in the core group of Hogan's operation. It should have made him the outlier and less included. But Hogan's group was different. Newkirk was one of the brothers in arms and he would happily die protecting his mates.

A soft laugh brought his attention to the major who was chatting with Jager in heavily accented German. "He is a pretty one, much better than the last."

Okay, maybe he wouldn't _happily_ die... Newkirk closed his eyes and shuddered as someone put a hand on his back. Where the hell was Colonel Hogan with a last minute rescue or scheme? Where was the Underground, bursting in with drawn guns and masks? Newkirk would take 'concerned German citizens' if they wanted to come stop the depravity about to occur in here. He'd accept help from any source at all, as long as it stopped the events proceeding in here.

The hand slipped up to grip the short hair on top of his head. His face was tilted up as Hendrich sauntered up to him. He heard himself whimper and loathed himself for that verbal weakness.

Hendrich smiled at that whimper and reached for him. He was taking his time, enjoying the visuals of his victim shaking in fear before him. "Now, Englander..."

There was a loud crack as the door crashed inward, flinging open to admit two burly German sergeants who came in shouting for everyone to stop and freeze in place. Newkirk's lips moved silently as he repeated that desire for any help at all from any source even if it were Satan himself from the depths of hell as long as it got him out of this room.

The pudgey form of an irate General Burkhalter stomped into the room and Newkirk stared for a few seconds. Ridiculously, inside his head he was thinking that perhaps the "any help at all" was stretching things a bit. The grip in his hair tightened and he immediately apologized to the fates with a addition that at least it wasn't Hochstetter. The entire room was silent as the guilty parties struggled to think of an excuse and the armed guards waited for orders.

"Cor blimey, General Burkhalter, tell me you ain't 'ere to join the party!" Approximately one half of a second after uttering that, Newkirk wished his mouth had stayed shut. But there it was, his Cockney impulsive self blurting out something exceptionally stupid at the earliest opportunity.

"What is going on here!?" The general barely glanced at the prisoner, but was taking in each of the officers. His gaze grew more angry as he noticed several in various states of undress. Newkirk could see the general's expression turn from anger to outright fury as he realized exactly what was happening in here. Burkhalter strode up to Hendrich. "Major-General Hendrich, I presume? I ,of course, must _assume_ considering your lack of decent attire."

Hendrich scrambled to tug his pants back into place and grabbed his jacket to dress. "Herr General, I uhh... I had no idea you were in the area." He cleared his throat, so obviously trying to think of a way out of the situation that Newkirk had to suppress the insane desire to laugh. "I can explain, of course."

Burkhalter's face went a shade darker as he shouted. "No! You cannot explain. I was already informed that you removed a POW from one of my Luftwaffe stalags. I was then informed that you had no authorization to be in one of my Luftwaffe stalags. Then when I arrived here I was informed of your conduct unbecoming a German officer and when I entered these quarters I find you engaging in deviant behavior with a prisoner! There is no explanation." Burkhalter turned slowly, looking about the room at each inhabitant carefully. "The only question is how many of you are going to suddenly volunteer to be demoted in rank and sent to the Russian Front."

Newkirk hazarded a soft pleading whine of pain to get Burkhalter to realize he was still in the room. It worked perfectly as the general whipped around and pointed at his captor. "Take your hands off that prisoner of war! He is now in my custody!" The hands turned loose and Newkirk twisted to peer fearfully over his shoulder at a completely unsettled Otto. His twist was a ruse to allow him to spit his lockpick to within inches of his fingers. With everyone's attention on the two high ranking officers in the room, he could be prepared in case he needed out of the middle of a firefight. In an instant he had it secured and was working at one of the heavy manacles, unseen by everyone.

Hendrich was trying to rally himself. "Herr General, I can assure you that there is no need to send anyone to the Russian Front. I think you'll find that I have many friends..."

"Your friends can join you there. As privates!" Burkhalter had a formidable bark when he chose to use it in a serious manner. At Burkhalter's gesture, the two guards stepped forward to manhandle the other three officers and their own enlisted guards to one side of the room. Hendrich began to protest and Burkhalter swung to shout at him again. "Quiet! One more word and you'll be sent to a camp yourself as an undesirable." Burkhalter turned back to the thoroughly cowed officers. "All of you will be demoted to enlisted status and assigned to combat units on the Russian Front immediately. You will count yourselves lucky that I did not inter you in a camp where you belong."

Newkirk had unlocked one of the cuffs although it was still closed about his wrist loosely. Still kneeling in the center of the floor, he was in the perfect position to notice that the two guards were searching the other officers with a thin aide watching the enlisted guards including Jager next to them. Burkhalter's two personal guards were just behind their general when Hendrich made his desperate move. Hendrich raised his knife high as he jumped at the general.

"General! Look out!" Newkirk reacted to Hendrich's lunge towards Burkhalter's unprotected back. The Britishman levered himself up off the floor and swung the loose manacle on its chain at Hendrich's extended arm. The noise of bones breaking was almost covered by the shrill scream of pain from the Major-General as he dropped the knife on the carpet to clutch at his injury. Newkirk took the opportunity to swing the loose manacle into Hendrich's face next. Hendrich blocked it mostly and Newkirk tried to line up a better swing.

The enraged shout from behind Newkirk was his only warning as Otto rushed him. "English dog! How dare you attack your masters!" Otto's burly form came in fast, intending to put down the annoying prisoner once and for all.

Newkirk didn't hesitate as he swung a right hook into the center of Otto's face, putting the big sergeant on the floor in a dazed state. He felt a crazy thrill that he would finally be able to deal some payback to the vicious Otto. Then the POW went down under Burkhalter's two personal guards as they mobbed him. He chose the better part of valor quickly curling up into a ball on the carpet and screaming "Kamerad!" repeatedly. It wasn't so much that he really thought anyone in that room would honor the surrender as much as an automatic reaction after so many years in the stalag.

Burkhalter's voice put a halt to everything. "STOP! Everyone stop this madness at ONCE." Everyone complied, right down to Newkirk shutting up on the floor. "Guards, secure those two aggressors. Take your hands off that prisoner. Apparently he was the only one in here who could prevent an attack on me!" The rebuke did not sit well with either of his guards and both managed a last jerk to Newkirk's limbs as they turned their attentions to Hendrich and Otto instead. Burkhalter indicated them with a shaking finger. "Take them both downstairs to the courtyard and shoot them."

Hendrich protested as he cradled his arm. "You cannot DO that!"

"Attempted murder of a Luftwaffe General? Yes, I can." Burkhalter's voice was ruthless. "Take them away." One of his personal guard and his aide were joined by another trooper in taking Hendrich and Otto out of the room, their protests falling on deaf ears as they were half dragged out. Burkhalter's remaining guard stood next to him as he turned his attention back to the remaining officers and enlisted. "Now are there any more suicidal Germans in the room?" All of them assured him of their intentions to comply with whatever punishments he thought best. "I thought not. Take them downstairs and secure them in the basement until I have someone come take custody of them. They will be stripped of their ranks and taken to the first train to the Russian Front." He leaned in to snarl at them. "Unless any of you wish to protest my decision?" The sound of a pair of rifle shots in the outside courtyard suddenly seemed very loud.

One of the colonels swallowed hard. "Nein, herr general, you are more than fair, herr general!"

"I thought you might see things my way." General Burkhalter watched them being taken away before he turned his attention to the POW who had managed to get back to his feet warily. Burkhalter's last guard stood next to him. "Now, as to you..."

Newkirk straightened up and tried to steady his voice. "Newkirk, Peter, Royal Air Force, serial number..."

"I don't need your serial number!" Burkhalter cut him off. "Any other time I would simply have you shot to clean up loose ends." Newkirk felt the blood drain from his face. Maybe Hochstetter would show up to help him now? His inner pleas seemed to help not at all. Burkhalter continued, not being privy to the inner thoughts of his prisoner. "But I suppose these are special circumstances." He frowned. "After all, Corporal Newkirk, you did save my life."

Newkirk nodded vigorously. "Yes, herr general, I saved... I..." His face went even more pale. "Please don't tell Colonel Hogan! I 'ave a reputation to keep, you know?" Then suddenly.. "Oh Cor BLIMEY! I saved a bloody Kraut GENERAL! I could be court-martialed and shot for this!"

Burkhalter humphed. "I could take care of the shooting part right now, if you'd like to save time, Corporal."

"Sorry herr general." Newkirk lowered his eyes, suddenly reminded again that although he wasn't in the hands of Hendrich any longer, Burkhalter was no cuddly teddy bear himself. His threat was not an idle one.

Burkhalter suddenly chuckled. "Well, I won't court-martial you. I don't think that you have to worry overly much about your own military court-martialing you unless the Third Reich falls. You are still a POW here in Germany." He stopped chuckling. "But I do have to figure out what to do with you. I suppose there is a labor camp not too far away."

Newkirk swallowed nervously. "Well, maybe you think that's a fitting way to treat the bloke what just saved your life, herr general, but meself, I think I'd do a little better for him."

"You're right. I really should send you back to Klink." Burkhalter grunted in irritation at the thought of the kommandant. "It would be less paperwork all around if you just went back there." He hummed. "I don't have enough extra personnel to spare a guard and it would be overkill to assign an entire vehicle to drive you all the way back to Stalag 13 however."

"Well, if you turn me loose, I'll just make me own way there." Newkirk shut up quickly at the glares. "Oi, I'm sure that the very generous General Burkhalter will decide on something very fair, indeed, most generous herr general, sir."

"Hmmph." Burkhalter finally snorted. "I'm certain that I will." His eyes went to the dangling cuff suddenly. "How did you escape your chains?"

Newkirk looked at the manacle himself like a guilty child. "Oh... it... it wasn't fastened properly, herr general. They..." Sudden inspiration hit him and he ducked his head down. "They knew the ruddy things didn't latch properly, herr general. If I jostled them and they fell open..." He took a ragged breath in and let his body shake as it wanted to. "Well, then they could punish me for trying to escape, even if I weren't." Praying the fiddling he'd done already was enough to open the second lock, he shook the cuff and reached to tug it and thankfully it clanked open. He held the chains out to Burkhalter. "See?" Now he was hoping that he'd done as good of a snowjob on the general as Hogan could have.

Burkhalter looked down at the offered manacles for several seconds. Then back up at the bruised face. "I see. Very cruel." Newkirk prayed he wouldn't actually examine the lock on the second cuff as it still had his lockpick jammed inside it. After a moment, Burkhalter turned away and Newkirk took the chance to palm the bit of metal again. When he bent to cough into his fist, he slipped it back into his mouth.

Burkhalter had turned back abruptly at the cough and looked at his prisoner for a long moment again. He gestured to the guard. "Take the prisoner downstairs and take care of him." Burkhalter turned away.

Newkirk raised his voice a bit frantically as the guard snatched him up by one arm. "Herr General! Would you please care to indulge a poor enlisted enemy and clarify your orders just a wee bit, sir?"

Burkhalter turned back to glare at him, only then noting the tight grip of his corporal. "Take _good_ care of the prisoner, I expect to see him clean and in fresh clothes in my personal rooms this evening. Understood?"

Relaxing the bruising grip, the guard eyed Newkirk for a second. "Jawohl, General Burkhalter, of course." He gave a light tug to the arm. "Come, Englander."

"Danke, herr general." Newkirk felt as if he might be able to breathe sometime soon. His escort took the bundle of uniform parts that he wasn't wearing and tucked it under his arm as he pulled the protesting Newkirk out of the room.

"Let me get dressed at least?" Newkirk was shaken like a disobedient child and the glare he got looked like it would be his only warning to comply. Shirtless, he stumbled along with the German through hallways and down a set of stairs that he was certain would finish his poor bruised knees off completely.

By the time they were in a small concrete room, his innate sense of direction had failed entirely. He couldn't have found his way out with a map and compass. All he wanted was to collapse and rest but his guard was steadfastly determined to carry out his orders, no matter how distasteful. They found one of the hotel employees down in the room already, the older man ironing clothing in the hotel laundry. A few words of German exchanged showed Newkirk, who still feigned complete ignorance of the language, that his guard was angry that he'd been relegated to washing and outfitting the 'stupid Englishman' instead of remaining behind to guard the general and possibly be noticed for all his forthright dutiful self.

Newkirk let his eyes close as the guard complained to the sympathetic staff. His uniform was dumped into the pile of dirty laundry with the man assuring them it would be done quickly. The Brit's eyes flicked open when he was shaken again, the guard obviously repeating orders to strip.

"Wot?" Newkirk's eyes widened for just a bare second before he realized he wasn't supposed to know what the guard was saying. Cringing away, he pretended to simply be scared of the angry words instead of the fear from the orders to remove his remaining clothing. The guard became more annoyed with him and pantomimed taking off the clothing. When it was obvious he would forcibly strip his prisoner, Newkirk began to comply slowly, keeping as far as possible from the German.

To cover his fear, he began to talk to the guard even though it was evident he knew extremely little English. "I 'ope you 'aven't got the same designs as the ones what are upstairs... " The guard yanked the pants and shorts out of his hands to toss onto the laundry pile and Newkirk protested. " 'ere, now them's me only clothes so don't... well fine, but I really don't fancy waiting about in me altogether while Gramps there does the laundry. It's bloody cold down 'ere." Naked, he shivered and hugged his bruised body and warily kept an eye on the German corporal.

After a last few complaints about the filthy state of the prisoner, which Newkirk longed to bristle over, it wasn't HIS fault that he hadn't been given so much as a basin of water to clean up in days... he was herded down the long dank room towards the far end. His annoyance quickly turned again to nervous fear but when they reached the back of the room, he found a simple shower. Apparently he was finally going to be able to take a bath.

He was partially wrong. He got bathed, by the coldly efficient German who from all appearances didn't think Newkirk could tie his own shoes much less clean himself. Despite his protests, the guard scrubbed him down like a dog, letting him rinse in the cold water once he was done. Every one of the few open wounds was grumbled over and scrubbed all over again, forcing stinging harsh soap into each. Even though he yelped and cursed over it, Newkirk himself would have done the same in hopes of preventing them from becoming infected. He had no grumpy Medic Wilson to see to his ills right now and that meant falling back on the simplest of care. Keep as clean as possible and keep any cut or scrape twice as clean as that.

Finally cleaned to the guard's satisfaction, he was handed a threadbare cloth to dry with and half-dragged back along the concrete to the laundry area where a fairly long conversation laced with more complaints about everything from the general's orders, the sergeant's lack of advancement in rank, the amount of dirty clothing from upstairs, and the general state of the war covered up the minor request for something to cover up the disreputable shivering prisoner.

Finally a pair of loose underwear were handed over and Newkirk slipped them on before his guard decided he needed to be dressed like a toddler as well. Waiting, he raised a protest when he was taken by an arm to leave. "Wait... I can't bloody well go walking around in just me skivvies!" His repeated protests annoyed the guard and Newkirk fell back on his abilities to use a few words of common German by repeating 'frauliens' and pointing up towards the upper levels of the hotel, indicating his lack of dress.

"Nein! Raus, Englander!" Complaining over his shoulder to the older man, his guard took him by one bruised arm and forced him up the stairs. Apparently battered POWs weren't going to embarrass anyone even if they were nearly naked. Newkirk huddled in on himself as they moved through the hotel, just hoping they didn't meet anyone on the walk that his guard wanted to chat with.

The long walk became blurry. The guard seemed to be using a back way that didn't cross into the public lobby, which Newkirk was grateful for. He didn't care how tired and beaten he was, he certainly did not want to be paraded through a crowd in just his shorts. They did keep going up stairs and he really could do without any more climbing. All of the adrenalin in his body was draining away and leaving him feeling wrung out and exhausted. Entering one of the upper floor rooms, he was pushed to a corner of the sitting room and the guard indicated the floor by pointing and shouting that he was to stay there and if he didn't do as he was told, he'd add to his collection of bruises. Newkirk was pleased to comply, the thick rugs on the floor were padding enough for his knees. At this point, being able to sit in a room with only one Kraut seemed like a safe haven, even if his guard was disgruntled about the whole thing.

The room was cold and despite his exhaustion, Newkirk was shivering. True to his nature, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, despite his guard being antagonistic towards him, Newkirk decided to at least try to make friends with the single guard. "Oi! Hey... you, grumpy!"

The guard frowned at him. "Nein! Quiet Englander!"

"Hey! Come on, at least tell me your name." Newkirk pointed at himself. "Newkirk." He pointed at the guard and deliberately mispronounced the German word. "Nommen."

"Nein!" His guard seemed uninterested in being friendly.

Newkirk was nothing if not stubborn though. "Come on. What's it 'urt to at least be able to call you something other than 'ey you'? Nommen?" He waited while the guard looked at the far wall in a bored fashion. "If you don't give me a name, I'm going to name you meself." Newkirk waited again for a moment. "Okay then. You're going to be..." He hummed to himself while thinking. "Let's go with Herman." He pointed firmly to himself. "Newkirk." He pointed at the guard. "Herman."

"Nein." The newly named Herman frowned at him.

Newkirk pressed his lips together and then frowned right back. "Ja. Newkirk. Herman."

Herman finally had enough of his mouthy prisoner and stomped over to grab him by the hair on top of his head. "Nein!" He pointed at Newkirk. "Englander!" He pointed at himself . "Heer Unteroffizier."

"Ow! Ow! Okay! Okay!" Newkirk held up both hands carefully. He was shaken anyway and he moaned softly as his head began to swim. "Okay! Englander! Englander!"

"Heer Unteroffizier!" Herman wasn't about to let up until he was satisfied.

"Here Under-officer!" slurred Newkirk. He was released to scoot backwards into his corner. Reaching up, he rubbed his newest sore spot and glared at Herman. The guard looked as if he were contemplating Newkirk's bruises for the best one to hit and the prisoner cringed backwards, huddling in on himself and trying to look as beaten and pitiful as possible.

It wasn't that much of a stretch of his acting abilities at the moment.

Evidently his fear satisfied Herman who returned to the door to go back to staring grumpily at the wall. Newkirk swallowed hard and tried to shift his kneeling position to ease the weight on his knees as best he could. Aches and pains and exhaustion were easy to bear if he reminded himself what his situation had been only an hour ago. Burkhalter had ordered 'good care' and that was far better than anything Hendrich had promised.

* * *

End Chapter.

Rescued! Finally. Many thanks to all of you for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you all for the reviews and feedback. It is very much appreciated. I will be responding to each of the signed reviews over the weekend and I do apologize for not getting to that before now. It's been a crazy week! We also have a hurricane(tropical storm right now) headed for us by the beginning of next week, but I don't anticipate anything untoward from it.

Major thanks to TinySprite as ever, the bestest beta and writing friend a person could ever wish for. Thanks also to Bits And Pieces for keeping me encouraged and to all my writer friends for support.

* * *

Chapter 12

It could not have been more than another hour before the door opened to admit General Burkhalter's aide. Newkirk looked up at him hazily, struggling to bring himself to an alert state to deal with him. "'ello."

"Hello Corporal." Friedrich's English was good. It held a great deal of German accent but it was good enough to capture a stray bit of Newkirk's attention as he wondered where he'd learned it. "Here. Dress."

For a few seconds, Newkirk simply looked at the bundle of cloth being offered to him. Then he reached to take it, half expecting a blow to fall as he did so. It took him far too long to get dressed in the cleaned uniform. It was still damp along the seams, but he couldn't have cared less. As he slid his blouse back on, he winced at the pull to his broken rib.

"Here." Friedrich had retreated to the far side of the room while he dressed but returned suddenly. Newkirk dodged away, going to his knees on the floor and blocking the expected blows with his upraised arms. "Nein, nein... easy..." He lowered his voice to a soothing tone. "Look... are you hungry?"

Lowering his hands, Newkirk watched the aide's face as he held out his hands towards the POW cringing on the floor. "Y-y-yes... " He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, herr undter-officer."

Friedrich smiled slightly and shook his head. "Nein, not unteroffizier." He pointed carefully to his insignia. "I am stabsfeldwebel..." He waited while looking expectantly. "Try to say it, stabsfeldwebel."

"Stabs-weeble." whispered Newkirk. This was Burkhalter's aide, and he was looking much more friendly than Herman. The voice of doubt inside his head hissed at him that Jager had seemed very friendly to him too. "Stabs-de-weebler." His mantra of appearing stupid and helpless repeated itself.

Friedrich sighed softly. "Try Friedrich." He pointed to himself. "You may call me Friedrich, ja?"

"Friedrich." Newkirk hazarded straightening himself to a more upright position although he stayed kneeling on the floor. He pointed to himself. "Newkirk." His voice lowered again. "Kamarad. I'm English, I'm a prisoner."

"Ja. I know." Friedrich tried holding out his hand again, offering a single thick slice of dark brown bread. Just the sight of it made Newkirk's mouth water. His nostrils flared as he inhaled automatically, hoping to get to smell it. Tearing his eyes away from the bread, he looked at Friedrich's face carefully. "Here, Corporal Newkirk. Take it. It is bread, very good." When Newkirk made no move to reach out, he looked puzzled. "You are hungry, ja? It is very good bread." He put it up to his nose and smelled it himself and made a pleased face. "See? Here." He held it out again.

Hunger warred inside Newkirk. He shifted himself slightly and then seemed to deflate a little bit. "What do you want?"

It confused Friedrich. "Want? I want to give you something to eat."

"What do I 'ave to do?" Although he hadn't eaten solid food since his last meal at Stalag 13, Newkirk had been offered food once or twice. He'd learned quickly that it was offered only to try to bribe him into acts he'd rather starve than perform. He'd ended up beaten and forced anyway. Now his hopes that the general's aide might not be as bad fell. But he was so very hungry.

Friedrich's expression slowly changed to a pitying one. "Nein, you do nothing. Just have the bread." He searched for the word he wanted. "Free? You take the bread and eat it." He nodded, holding out the food. "General Burkhalter said to feed you. See?"

Newkirk's stomach clenched and demanded it and he gave up and took the bread. It was soft and smelled wonderful. They got brown bread at the stalag, often as their entire meal. But the tough chunks of bread in camp were nothing like this. Even the much better bread they smuggled into camp was usually at least stale. This was light and fluffy and richly flavored and to his frustration, his battered face wouldn't allow him to eat it quickly. He was reduced to tearing bits of it loose and chewing carefully. The slow consumption kept his stomach from rebelling however and even though it was not a large piece, his long empty belly declared itself full when he was done.

Friedrich had moved to sit in a chair and watched him lick his fingers in case there were stray crumbs. "I would bring you more to eat but it would make you ill, ja?" He could see the Englishman was at the frayed edges of his endurance. "General Burkhalter will be busy for some time. You may rest until he returns." Again there was a wary look and a long assessment before the statement was accepted.

Despite his attempts to stay alert, Newkirk eventually propped himself against a wall and let his eyes drop nearly closed. Telling himself that he would only rest a bit, his body betrayed him and he dropped into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

He awoke to Herman shaking him like a rag doll. Flailing his way free, he scrambled away on hands and knees. A heavy boot knocked him flat and held him facedown on the carpet. "Kamarad! Bitte!"

Burkhalter's voice sounded displeased. "Let him up. I cannot question a prisoner who is too terrified to speak." He waited while Newkirk righted himself, hands in the air and eye wide. "Stand up Corporal Newkirk."

Stiff and sore, it took him a visible effort to get to his feet, keeping both hands up the whole time, just in case Herman decided he looked dangerous. "Yes, herr general." He bobbed his head subserviently and resolved to act as cowed as possible. His Cockney nature bristled and he ruthlessly stuffed it away.

"Put your hands down. You already surrendered." Burkhalter waited for him to lower his hands. "Now I want you to tell me the truth. Some of the other officers have declared that you were a willing participant. Did you ask to do this?" He had a formidable frown.

Newkirk stared at him and then spoke quietly. "Permission to speak freely, herr general?"

General Burkhalter rocked back on his heels. "Granted."

Taking a breath in, Newkirk tried to rein back his outrage in order to answer. "What kind of idiotic twit can ask 'did you ask to be beaten, humiliated, starved and abused for days, then raped to death by a bunch of deviant Nazis?" Odd, he hadn't even felt the reins slipping out of his control. His mouth probably just got him shot. After surviving everything Hendrich had done... he sighed. "Sir."

Burkhalter was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Herman was fingering his sidearm with a tiny smile of anticipation. Finally the general spoke calmly. "Your permission to speak freely is revoked." He pressed his lips in a thin line. "Forever. Am I understood, corporal?"

"Yes, herr general." Newkirk tried to go back to looking cowed.

Burkhalter paced away and back. "It is only the fact that you saved my life that keeps me from dropping you into the nearest labor camp." He paced again. "It would be much more convenient for me, you understand. No worrysome prisoner in my way and no embarrassing declarations of German abuse of a POW to the Red Cross." He began to turn away.

Newkirk heard the general reasoning away his life. He'd heard plenty about labor camps. The British POW wouldn't last more than a couple months at best if he went in right now. "It'd be idiotic for me to contact the Red Cross! Why would I want to make you look good!?" he blurted.

Turning back slowly, Burkhalter's frown deepened. "Would you care to explain, corporal? And this time, at least attempt to keep a respectful tone."

"Yes, herr general." Swallowing nervously, Newkirk chose his words with care. "The way I see it, the way the Red Cross would see it, that is... that a German Major-General was abusing prisoners in deviant ways, murdering them when he was... was finished." Burkhalter's expression darkened and Newkirk rushed on. "But but... as soon as it was reported to you, herr general, being the moral and ethical officer that you are, you immediately acted to stop him. I'm certain you would testify that you would have rescued all of 'is victims, 'ad you been aware of his inclinations. You even 'anded out the most severe punishment, seeing it carried out on the spot." Newkirk gave him the most admiring gaze he could muster out of his bruised and damaged face. "Why, you'd end up with a commendation out of it and me own government would probably blacklist _me_ for being the victim!" He frowned. "You won't report it yourself, will you, herr general? I mean..." He was suddenly worried because his quickly constructed scenario actually sounded too plausible.

"I will consider it." Burkhalter stood and stared blankly for a moment while he thought about it. "Very well." He hand waved in a dismissive manner. "I shall return you to the Luft Stalag and Colonel Klink." His eyes crinkled a little at the corners. "And I give you permission to speak freely to him whenever you like."

"Thankee herr general." Newkirk looked up briefly and then gave a rueful little smile. "Kommandant Klink is very strict on us though. I wouldn't want to bring punishments down on me mates."

"Hmmph." Burkhalter seemed unamused but accepted the strange way the prisoners seemed to respect and fear Colonel Klink. After all, he'd seen too much evidence to think otherwise. "Well, shall I have my guards chain you up or will you give your word not to attempt to escape?" He paused. "You are not an officer, but I shall extend the offer of a promise... considering that you were honorable enough to save my life."

Newkirk hadn't had any thought of escaping and hoped the flash of surprise on his face was assumed to be due to the offer of his word being considered as good as an officer's. He snorted mentally, having little use for officers on the best of days... Colonel Hogan withstanding. "Thankee, General Burkhalter. I 'onestly don't believe I'd make it far even if you released me on the street." He smiled crookedly. "I do 'ereby give my word to not attempt escape." Suddenly he lost the smile. "While in your custody, of course... this doesn't apply to attempted escapes once I'm back in the stalag."

"Of course. Someone has to keep Klink busy." Burkhalter accepted his statement. "I will expect for you to behave with respect while in my custody and accept appropriate security measures when required. It will be a few days before we arrive back at Stalag 13."

"Yes, herr general," agreed Newkirk.

"Good. Then that is settled." Burkhalter turned and walked to the table in the room, motioning to Dietrich to bring his briefcase of papers over. "Dietrich, you will be responsible for making sure my prisoner is secure and cared for." His eyes shifted to the quiet prisoner. "Unless of course I have to shoot him."

Newkirk put on an alarmed look and shifted uneasily, even though he suspected the general was just trying to get a rise out of him. Better to make a show of how the barb hit home than to make a Kraut escalate to something more.

Dietrich left and the general settled and began to search through his papers. "We will leave early tomorrow. I have meetings and inspections to attend to. Stalag 13's inspection is in three days." His eyes flicked up to Newkirk. "I suggest you sit down somewhere out of the way and stay quiet."

"Yes, herr general." Newkirk found his comfortable corner and sat on the floor. The only chair not occupied by the general was next to the door and he wasn't going to act suspicious in any way. He might be bored but after the last time, he was satisfied to just rest in a corner quietly. No reason to make Burkhalter go back on his offer nor to give Herman a reason to smack him more.

When Friedrich reappeared in the room, he had a tray for Burkhalter who stopped his paperwork to make pleased noises at the food. Newkirk ignored his belly rumbling. He'd gotten bread earlier. He put his head down on his knee facing the wall. That was why he jerked in surprise when Friedrich touched him.

"Englander Newkirk." The aide held out a cup. "It is soup." His face became concerned. "You do not have to do anything for it."

"Thank you, Friedrich." said Newkirk carefully. He took the cup carefully, watching for any trick. His hands shook a bit and he held the cup with both of them to keep from spilling any of it. It was just chicken broth with a few bits of vegetables and it was ambrosia to him. He tried to drink it slowly. He made sure to get the last drops before he noticed Friedrich watching him. "Thank you. It was 'wonder-bar'."

"Ah, gut! But it is 'wunderbar'. Try it again." Friedrich waited while Newkirk repeated it again. "Better." He took the cup back. "There is water on the table, there." He pointed at a pitcher of water. The aide went back to wait on Burkhalter's table and the general had him take a seat to join him. The two chatted about unimportant subjects and arranged Burkhalter's upcoming schedule to his liking. Newkirk was pretending to ignore it as the conversation was in German.

He was half asleep when the Germans getting up brought his attention around again. He blinked up at Friedrich when he walked over to look down at him thoughtfully. Just before Newkirk began to get truly nervous, Friedrich took a deep breath. "You will behave, ja? You will sleep."

Newkirk nodded at him and scrunched himself up smaller. "Yes... ja, I promised not to escape." He blinked slowly. "I just want to rest."

"Ja, there will be a guard." Friedrich looked at Herman who was leaving to trade places with Dietrich in another room. "They will be standing guard in shifts for the general." He suddenly left the room, disappearing into the attached bedroom Burkhalter had appropriated. Newkirk leaned out to watch for his return. After another moment, the aide did return, smiling slightly for some reason when he saw Newkirk. "Ja, gut. You stay here." He dropped a blanket onto the prisoner's lap. "Bitte, Englander, do not make the guard punish you."

"No herr Friedrich." Newkirk put on his most meek and timid act as he wrapped the welcome blanket around himself and watched Dietrich enter the room and settle in the chair next to the door. Friedrich left, probably to go share the other room with Herman. The lights were turned off and soon the only light source was the crevice of light from under the door to the corridor.

When everything was quiet, Newkirk finally decided to get comfortable on the floor in his corner. He'd slept in far worse places through his life. The hotel room rug was even cleaner than his own bunk normally was, the blanket was certainly thicker. He shifted himself around to lie curled up on his side.

The slight noise of him moving about made Dietrich nervous. "Englander!" hissed the guard. "Nein. Be still."

"Ja... Englander..." Newkirk yawned as he answered quietly. "Sleeping." He heard a soft grunt of annoyance before the guard decided to settle back into his post next to the door. The Englishman lay on the floor and watched the very dim light under the door. It felt ridiculously good to just lie there and only feel nervous about the possibility of a German deciding to boot him or decide he was too much trouble and shoot him. That almost felt restful when he compared it to the nights previous with Hendrich and Otto. His fingers closed tighter on the blanket and drew it closer about him.

He told himself that the shivers were from the chill in the air and not from fear.

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End Chapter

Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Because I'm in a rush today, you don't have to suffer through a long author's note!

Thank you to everyone who reads, helps or messages!

* * *

Chapter 13

Newkirk dozed through most of the night. Herman had relieved Dietrich in the wee hours of the morning and had promptly checked that Newkirk was in his assigned place by walking over and putting a boot into his side. The soft yelp of pain seemed to satisfy him and by the time Newkirk could get himself upright to look about in confusion, Herman was settling into the chair by the door.

"Bloody wanker." Shifting himself back to the floor, Newkirk rubbed his sore ribcage and made sure that his injured rib was to the floor as best protected as he could manage. It wasn't long before he was dozing again.

When Friedrich arrived, he brought Burkhalter's breakfast. The general was a grumpy riser and snapped at his aide until well after he'd consumed coffee and a sizable amount of food. Their prisoner sat quietly in his corner, wrapped in the blanket, completely asleep again. He woke up with a slap to his head by Herman. Mumbling insults under his breath, Newkirk shrugged out of the blanket and then instantly forgave the guard when he handed over a chunk of still warm bread. He even felt a slight fondness for the bastard when he found a slight smear of marmalade on it.

"Danke herr Unteroffizier." pronounced Newkirk carefully. He savored every little bite, despite the sore jaw and bruises. When he was licking his fingers, Friedrich gave him a cup with the last coffee from the bottom of the pot. Even with it being the dregs after all the Germans had had their own coffee, it was leaps and bounds better than anything he'd had in camp since the last time that Klink had had guests walk out in the middle of a luncheon.

In the time it took Newkirk to drink the lukewarm coffee, Dietrich and Friedrich had all of Burkhalter's gear packed and carried down to the car. They were leaving the hotel before most of the hotel's occupants were even awake. Newkirk revised his opinion of the fat little general upwards a bit. He'd been underestimating Burkhalter when it came to ability and efficiency. Of course... he watched Friedrich cheerily handing Burkhalter's briefcase to him... a lot of the efficiency was due to his aide.

If Hogan ever needed to cripple Burkhalter for a few days, Newkirk would bet the easiest way would be to remove Friedrich. Herman stepped towards him and Newkirk got to his feet quickly before the guard could 'encourage' him.

Friedrich snapped at Herman and the guard grumped a little but allowed the POW to fall into line behind the aide without any additional thumps or kicks.

There were curious stares as the German general and his entourage and prisoner loaded into the staff car that Dietrich had brought around. For a moment, Herman eyed the front passenger seat and Newkirk. A quick question brought a scathing retort from Burkhalter about the inappropriate nature of placing an enemy soldier next to the driver of the car. Herman seemed perfectly happy to take the front passenger seat with Dietrich driving, leaving the General and his aide to the back seat with a uneasy Newkirk sharing the space. The staff car had plenty of space in the back seat, even with Burkhalter's case of paperwork. The last staffcar ride Newkirk had taken had been exceptionally unpleasant with exceptionally unpleasant company.

This morning he twisted his hands together nervously and tried not to look directly at either of the Germans. When Burkhalter spoke to him, he startled and slid further away before he could stop himself.

"So Corporal Newkirk..." Burkhalter paused while Newkirk calmed himself. "Why don't you tell us about England?"

Suddenly wary, Newkirk looked out of the car window and shrugged. "Not much to tell."

"I'm not asking for state secrets or battle strategy, Corporal." Burkhalter seemed amused.

"Well that's good. Considering I've been a bleeding prisoner for the last three years, I think me information would be out of date, if I were so inclined to be giving up intel to the enemy, so to speak, herr general." Newkirk kept his tone light and hoped Burkhalter wouldn't take his refusal to answer amiss.

"Of course. Instead, tell us about interesting things. What do you have for breakfast in England?" Friedrich was relaxed, watching the prisoner think over the question.

"Oh... well..." Newkirk settled back into the car seat. Maybe the car rides wouldn't be quite so bad.

* * *

The car ride indeed was not unbearable. Burkhalter attempted to ask leading questions a few times, but Newkirk felt as if it was more out of idle curiosity and habit rather than a true interrogation. The roads were full of potholes that made sure no one could truly nap during the drive. Even so, Newkirk caught himself dozing a few times during lulls in the conversation.

When they arrived, he climbed out of the vehicle with an effort, stepping out of Burkhalter's way but immediately scooting back over next to the car door when a pair of German soldiers passing by eyed him. He missed Burkhalter's quiet orders to Herman while he was peering around the area.

"Englander!" Herman snapped at him. Newkirk turned to find the guard holding a set of chains. "Now."

Newkirk sighed at General Burkhalter as Herman securely fastened the shackles on his bruised wrists. He'd really had enough of wearing restraints. Herman gave him a warning look and jerked the chain. "Ow... bastard." said Newkirk mildly.

General Burkhalter's slight grunt of annoyance made Herman back off and Newkirk shut his mouth. The rotund general rocked back and forth on his heels as he gazed dispassionately at his prisoner. "You understand, Corporal, appearances must be kept. It would not do for me to be seen in the company of a RAF airman unless it was completely clear that he were a prisoner."

Newkirk nodded as he twisted his wrists in the metal cuffs. "Of course, herr general. I'd prefer to keep that clear meself." He smiled grimly, indicating his own face with one bound hand. "Of course, most folks would assume such, considering me own state of disrepair, so to speak." When Herman made a small move, he hastily added, "No offense to the general, of course." He eyed Herman warily.

Burkhalter's chuckle made them both relax slightly. "Then we are all satisfied. Hendrich did do me a small service. I would have needed to beat you myself if you looked too healthy." Loftily ignoring Newkirk's wary glare, Burkhalter turned to his patient aide. "Friedrich, lead the way. And do try to be sure that my lunch is presentable today. These meetings are tedious and poor food puts me in a foul mood." The aide reassured him of the meal quality as they moved inside the hotel.

Newkirk gave a little sigh of relief when Herman stayed behind to take the staff car away. The thin stoic Dietrich might not act friendly like Friedrich, but he also didn't kick Newkirk when he felt the general wasn't watching either. Newkirk made certain to stay close by his guard when they walked through the hotel to the front desk. Stoic guards were preferable to unfriendly civilians or random German soldiers. He spotted a pair of SS officers leaving and stepped even closer to Dietrich who gave him an irritated mumble. Newkirk didn't care if he was annoying. If it kept him safe from the SS, he'd climb into Burkhalter's own pocket.

While he was keeping an eye on the SS, Friedrich had arranged Burkhalter's rooms. Soon enough, Newkirk was in another hotel suite looking about automatically for escape routes he wouldn't use, items of value he wouldn't steal and had located the room safe, which although his fingers itched at the thought, he would _not_ open.

His examination of the room had made Dietrich narrow his eyes suspiciously. Before he could do more than glower, Friedrich had come through, nearly running over Newkirk in his haste. "Put yourself out of the way, Englander. You are a pest underfoot." Friedrich had a little half smirk for the POW as he spoke and Newkirk took the hint and found an empty corner near the window and stood in it. Herman arrived with the rest of Burkhalter's things, including the oh-so-tempting briefcase. The thief in him wanted to open the joke of a lock and pilfer the contents. But the POW in him wanted to stay alive and on his way back to Stalag 13. Newkirk preferred itchy fingers to being dead in a ditch.

An hour later, Burkhalter was seated with two Major-Generals and one unhappy looking SS major. Newkirk had long since scrunched himself down to sit in the corner hoping that if he sat very still, no one, especially not the SS man, would notice one lone RAF prisoner seated on the floor. So far even the bodyguards hadn't paid any attention to him. Newkirk had continued his act of not speaking German and Burkhalter seemed to buy it. It helped that the general had a low opinion of Newkirk's intelligence as well. Instead of being insulted, the Brit was pleased. Stupid non-German-speaking POWs were no threat to Burkhalter. Considering that the most recent threat to the general had been stood up against a wall and shot, Newkirk would be just as stupid as needed.

His luck wasn't good enough to hold for long. The SS major's guard stepped over to the room's single window to look out in a bored manner. As he turned back to the rest of the room, his eyes stopped on Newkirk down in his corner. The way he jumped away while shouting in alarm would have made the Englishman laugh – if it were not for the gun that appeared and pointed at him.

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end Chapter

Thanks for reading! I love all you guys who keep reviewing! Thank you!


	14. Chapter 14

First, thank you all for the feedback and reviews! Sorry for the abrupt posting last week but I had a four hour drive and had just barely remembered to post a new update before leaving.

As always thank you to TinySprite and Bits and Pieces and all my author friends for all the assistance and feedback and encouragement. Thank you to all you readers too!

For this chapter, all _dialogue in italics_ will be spoken German.

* * *

Chapter 14

Within seconds, the room was in an uproar. The startled guard was pointing and shouting while everyone else erupted. Burkhalter's voice finally rose above the rest. "Silence!"

As everyone quieted, Newkirk looked up and raised his chained hands cautiously. "Kamarad?"

"Quiet." Burkhalter switched to German. " _The Englander is my prisoner. He is of no consequence_."

Newkirk kept his eyes wide and continued his act of ignorance. It was made more difficult as the protests continued.

" _Herr general, this is an incredible security breach! An enemy soldier in the same room while we discuss the war_?" The first Major-General stood and gazed down at the prisoner. " _Why, he has already heard enough to be a risk! My guard will take care of this._ " A motion brought one of the German privates from the door. " _Take him outside and shoot him_."

Struggling to keep panic from his face, Newkirk got to his feet when the private gestured to him. Trying to look agreeable to whatever the guard wanted, Newkirk showed his cuffed wrists to the guard. "Am I supposed to go with you?" His open and innocent expression invoked the very image of a lamb being led to slaughter. He just hoped that reality didn't play out in the same manner.

Burkhalter stopped the fuss by slamming a hand onto the table. "Halt! Sit back down, Corporal Newkirk!"

He sat quickly. "Yes, herr general. I was just trying to do as I'm told." He blinked in confusion at everyone. On the inside he was hoping they would all buy his act of ignorance.

General Burkhalter snorted. "I am your captor and you will do as _I_ say." He switched back to German. " _The prisoner does not speak German beyond a few of the most common phrases. He understands nothing_." His eyes flicked over to the POW. " _I'd have him shot myself if that were not true_." When Newkirk didn't show even the slightest response, he relaxed again. " _Let us return to business_."

Although the other officers showed doubt and annoyance in their expressions, none dared to speak up. The SS guard stood very near Newkirk watching him. Newkirk eyed him back for a few minutes before shifting himself up against the wall and putting his head on his drawn-up knees to doze. On the inside he listened intently to every word at the table. There was no way for him to make notes so he would simply have to remember all of the important bits as best he could. Letting his body relax into a semblance of sleep, he noted how many German troops were moving into which sector and where armored divisions were being sent. He was so intent on repeating the facts to set them in his memory that it took a sharp nudge from a jackboot to bring him aware.

Dietrich motioned him to his feet. "Come, Englander. Now." A quick glance showed the general deeply in discussion with the others about wines and liquors. "Raus!"

Getting to his feet, Newkirk followed the thin guard out of the room and downstairs. Dietrich said, " _You will help me bring dinner up to General Burkhalter and his guests. Do you understand?_ " Because he'd spoken in German, Newkirk's only response was a blank stare. " _Of course you don't. You must be a very stupid Englander if you still can't speak German. The general told me you've been a prisoner for years. German is not that hard to learn." He looked at Newkirk. "Are you really that stupid,_ Englander?"

Newkirk smiled suddenly and pointed to himself. "Jawohl! Englander!"

Dietrich rolled his eyes. " _I hope not all Englanders are so stupid. When we take over England, you'll all be hopeless as servants to the Third Reich_." Shaking his head, he gave Newkirk a light shove to the left. " _Kitchen is this way_."

Just to be a little annoying, Newkirk repeated himself. "Englander. Newkirk." The more stupid that Dietrich believed him to be, the more Newkirk could get away with. Highly intelligent prisoners attempted to scout out buildings for sabotage and/or escape attempts. Stupid prisoners 'got lost' and had to be located and led back to where they belonged. Intelligent prisoners ended up shot as spies. Stupid ones were chided and cuffed in the head. Newkirk preferred a good slap to a bullet every time. So he smiled blankly, mispronounced everything and took a few tries to guess what was wanted from him. Dietrich wasn't a bad sort, overall. He only called the POW a dummkoph and smacked him once when he spotted Newkirk trying to steal a roll from a tray. He even gave the prisoner back the roll after Newkirk gave him a stammered apology and a fearful expression.

Carrying a covered tray, Newkirk felt rather pleased so far. He could manage Dietrich and Friedrich. Burkhalter was harder to dance around but so far he hadn't slipped up. Herman... well, Newkirk thought to himself, Herman didn't hit even half as hard as Hendrich had.

Having waited on Klink's table for dinner engagements came in handy once again. Dietrich assisted him as plates and utensils were placed in their correct places. Once wine was poured, Burkhalter gave Dietrich a significant look and the guard took Newkirk by the back of his jacket and put him back into his corner. Although he wanted to make a pithy comment about being manhandled, Newkirk chose to sit down quietly with a nervous glance to Burkhalter. The general was already fully involved in his meal and paid no mind to his prisoner.

The mealtime conversation was mostly food-related with a few choice comments on various German officials who were not currently in favor. Newkirk ignored it and only eyed the table a few times to see if he'd gain any sympathy food. His stellar 'starving prisoner act' was roundly ignored by everyone except for Friedrich. The aide got a ghost of a smile at the attempts but seeing as he wasn't eating himself, he was in no position to offer anything. Newkirk gave up after a few minutes and settled his head on his knees again to rest. Inside his head, he was trying to put the information he'd heard earlier into a concise form that he could remember.

After mulling it around, Newkirk put as many of the facts as possible into as few lines as needed and tried memorizing those as if for a performance. If he could keep an entire show's worth of banter in his head and use it while juggling magic tricks and prat falls, he should be able to keep all of his gleaned facts and tactical information straight as well. He didn't dare try writing any sort of notes.

He was so zoned out that he missed Herman's first order to get up. Herman's boot to his hip got his attention quickly.

His yelp made Burkhalter give them both a look of annoyance. Newkirk shut his mouth on the protest he was about to make and Herman took half a step back. The general's attention went back to his guests who seemed to be gathering their things to leave. A few still sent glares towards the POW in the corner. Newkirk got to his feet slowly, trying to act as if the shackles on his wrists were hampering him. In truth he didn't know why Herman was getting him up and part of him worried that someone had changed Burkhalter's mind about the potential of Newkirk being a spy.

Following Herman's gruff directions, Newkirk was taken down to the kitchen again and shoved into a corner. Herman pointed at the floor and glared and Newkirk sat. At this rate, he'd learn to roll over in no time. But he reminded himself that the corner of the kitchen was greatly preferable to a wall outside in the courtyard with a rifle pointed at him. After a few minutes, Friedrich joined them and the kitchen help began to set out food. Apparently it was meal time for the guards. Newkirk supposed that Dietrich would eat afterward. When the prisoner would eat was not apparent.

After making a large plate for himself, Herman took it out of the kitchen to eat in the bar. His comments made it clear that he was pleased to leave the troublesome prisoner to Friedrich. That didn't stop him from aiming a kick to one of Newkirk's ankles on his way out.

Glaring as he rubbed his ankle, Newkirk stayed in the corner and watched the cook's assistant doing menial prep work.

"Englander. Here." Friedrich was holding out a sizable chunk of brown bread. "Here, take it. It is good." He extended his hand further until Newkirk reached to take it.

Just shy of touching the bread, Newkirk hesitated, his eyes intent on Friedrich's face for any sign of a trick. Taking the bread quickly, he pulled back into the corner and waited to see if the German would do anything. When Friedrich went back to his own hearty meal, Newkirk spoke quietly. "Thank you." The Brit began to pull bits off the chunk of bread to eat. His jaw was still sore and he couldn't gulp down the bread with his usual haste.

The cook watched his careful chewing and went to the cabinet and filled a small cup. He started towards Newkirk and then stopped to look at Friedrich. " _Is he dangerous_?"

Friedrich chuckled at the thought and waved a hand. " _Nein, he is harmless_."

Stepping closer, the cook held out the cup. " _Here, you can put your bread into some milk. It will be easier to eat_."

Newkirk looked to his guard, feigning ignorance of the German words. Friedrich sighed and replied to the cook. " _He doesn't speak anything but English. He isn't very bright_." Turning to Newkirk, he switched to English. "This nice man is giving you some milk to soak your bread in. Take the cup and say 'thank you'. Say 'danke'." He nodded and motioned encouragingly.

Newkirk took the cup and made a grand show of correctly pronouncing his thanks. He wouldn't have been surprised had one of the them patted his head for being good but both of them turned to idle talk of the war.

He spent the next half hour drowning bread in his milk and eating carefully. The little cup of milk tasted rich and was as filling as a feast after days of no food. The cook began to refill his cup but Friedrich stopped him.

" _You'll make him ill. He wasn't fed for several days_." When the cook made a noise of dismay, Friedrich reassured him. " _He will get proper care from General Burkhalter._ "

Newkirk let himself doze sitting in his corner as Friedrich lingered over his meal. Herman returned and started towards the prisoner but left when the aide ordered him back upstairs to relieve Dietrich.

The thinner guard appeared quickly and claimed a meal, seating himself next to the aide to eat. After a moment, Dietrich glanced at the corner. " _Did someone feed the Englander?_ "

"Ja, ja." answered Friedrich absently. He noticed Newkirk's attention perking up at the mention of 'Englander'. "Nein, you will make yourself ill. The next meal, you can have more."

The cook was more sympathetic. " _He looks hungry._ "

 _"He will go back to the Luft stalag. No reason to over-feed him now._ " Friedrich dropped himself out of Newkirk's 'favorite Kraut' category in favor of the cook.

" _Are you saying that the Third Reich starves the prisoners of war?_ " The cook definitely rose to 'top Kraut'."

" _Of course not. They are fed adequately_." said Friedrich.

Dietrich seemed to take the cook's side simply to be perverse and annoy Friedrich. " _Jawohl. He certainly looks as if he's gotten 'adequately fed' recently._ " He smiled and held up his hands in surrender as the aide bristled. " _Don't blame me, I'm not the one starving the general's prisoner."_

Friedrich gave them all a sour look. " _Fine. Feed him and make him ill. When he is vomiting on the carpet, I will be certain the general knows who is to blame._ " His eyes flashed angrily but when Newkirk looked worried over the angry words, he relented. " _Give him something bland._ "

The cook made up a bowl of beef soup and Newkirk happily accepted it with a repeated 'Danke!' to everyone. The broth was indeed almost too rich but it tasted so good that he didn't care. "This is marvelous soup. Me own mum couldn't make better in 'er day." He beamed a crooked smile out of his bruised face.

Friedrich grunted but translated to the other two Germans. " _He says the soup is very good like his mother's soup_."

The cook smiled and went back to his work but Dietrich frowned. " _It's odd. I never thought about them having mothers."_

" _Of course they have mothers. And fathers and brothers and sisters. They don't hatch from nothing."_ said Friedrich with some exasperation.

" _Ja. They climb up from the depths of Hell itself_." The new voice was full with annoyance and belonged to a very worn looking SS lieutenant. He strode into the kitchen and both of Burkhalter's men jumped to attention. He waved them off. " _Nein, I'm too tired for nonsense._ " He looked down at Newkirk who was frozen in his corner. " _Why is there an Englishman in the kitchen?"_

Friedrich stepped forward. " _He is General Burkhalter's prisoner. We were feeding him_." The aide seemed only a little nervous.

"Hmmph." The SS officer didn't seem impressed but turned to the cook. " _Prepare a tray for four prisoners and take it to the cellar. I have some Underground agents in custody._ " He returned his gaze to Newkirk. " _Don't expect them to come rescue you, they're under constant guard."_

Dietrich spoke up hesitantly. " _He does not understand you. He doesn't speak German_."

"Hmmph." The officer stepped closer to Newkirk who drew slightly away. " _You can put him in the cellar with my prisoners. I shall take care of him for you. We are going to Berlin in the morning to SS Headquarters to take the others for questioning."_

Newkirk stopped breathing. He stared up at the cold eyes of the SS officer and knew he'd never live to make it to Berlin. This man hated him, most likely because he was RAF.

"Nein..." Friedrich was choosing his words carefully. " _General Burkhalter is inspecting the stalag in a few days and will return him then. He is a Luftwaffe prisoner._ " He gave a tight smile. " _Danke for your offer."_

"Hmmph." A wave of one hand dismissed the entire situation. " _Feed my prisoners. I leave early in the morning_." The SS officer looked at Friedrich. " _I shall pay my respects to the general at the evening meal._ " When he left the room the tension in the room dropped dramatically.

Friedrich took a breath and looked at the still wide-eyed Newkirk. "Eat your soup, Englander. What is wrong?"

"Is the SS officer going to shoot me?" Newkirk let the panic show in his face. He didn't think that a lieutenant would buck a general over one lone POW, but then, if he did, the fact that General Burkhalter would be upset afterward was little comfort. He'd be dead.

"So, you know of the SS?" Dietrich looked sly, as if he'd caught Newkirk in something.

Newkirk gave him a disdainful look. "Every POW knows the SS. Not one of the blokes in camp doesn't know the SS and they're bad news when they show up."

Friedrich spoke up. "Nein. You are a Luftwaffe prisoner. General Burkhalter will not allow the SS to take Luftwaffe property." Friedrich didn't notice the prisoner bristling.

"I am not property." Newkirk glared hard. "I might be a bloody prisoner but I'm no one's property."

"Eat your soup." Friedrich turned his back and began to speak quietly with Dietrich about the schedule of shifts the two guards were to take. Newkirk stared at his back for a moment and then finished off the soup. No matter how mad he might get, the soup was still tasty.

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End Chapter

Thank you for reading. Anyone thinking that something in this chapter is going to be important?


	15. Chapter 15

Early update! Because first, you readers are awesome and you reviewers are incredible. Secondly, there's been quite a few posted chapters/fics that were so good that they inspired me to post early. And lastly, I don't feel like scrubbing more floors here at home, and posting a new chapter will kill some time. Any time spent in a non-floor-scrubbing activity is time well spent.

My usual thanks to TinySprite, most fabulous beta ever. Thank yous to Bits And Pieces and LadyJaye1 and Karama9 for ongoing encouraging words.

* * *

Chapter 15

Newkirk spent most of the afternoon dozing in the corner of a room while Burkhalter discussed strategy and supplies and solved minor issues for various officers. Part of him was frustrated that all of the discussions contained so little that would be useful to the Allied war effort. The rest of him was relieved and spent some of the time reviewing his 'lines' of information to make sure he wasn't forgetting them.

But the thought of the agents being held in the cellar continued to niggle at his conscience. He couldn't help but think that if Hogan were here, he would come up with some plan to get them free. Newkirk had no way to find out if he even knew of any of the agents, or truly, if they were really Underground agents or if they were just citizens who had gotten caught up in helping the Allies.

But they were headed for torture and death and they could expose a lot more of the Underground if... he amended that in his head... _when_ they broke under the questioning. There was a chance that one of them would even know about Papa Bear and their own organization.

Newkirk needed to rescue them.

He twisted his wrists inside the manacles, wincing as the skin tore just a little bit more. They were already raw and covered in small cuts. A glance around the room showed him almost a dozen Germans. During the day, the numbers had fluctuated, but had never gone below five. None of them seemed like the type of German that would let him go wander downstairs to rescue some Underground agents either. Newkirk was one single prisoner surrounded by Germans who had stated outright they'd be happy to shoot him. He couldn't do anything to help those Underground members.

He _had_ to rescue them. He was going to rescue them. There really wasn't a choice. There was no Papa Bear here to save them.

Now all he had to do was to come up with a brilliant plan. Preferably one that would work and not get him shot. It would a real pity if he managed to survive Hendrich and Otto's abuse and Burkhalter's annoyance and Herman's sneaky kicks only to die trying to free other prisoners. After all, he'd only agreed to not attempt to escape from Burkhalter himself. He hadn't promised anything regarding freeing prisoners of random SS officers.

He sighed lightly. Maybe he would have a chance in the dead of night... when everyone was asleep and it was quiet. His eyes went to the door. One way or the other, he was going to free those agents tonight or die trying.

He sighed again. Probably die trying.

* * *

Back at Stalag 13...

Kinch and LeBeau were sitting in Hogan's office when the light came on the coffeepot. LeBeau jumped up and pulled the speaker basket out so they could listen in to the phone call.

Both of them straightened up when the caller identified himself as Burkhalter's aide. LeBeau whispered a soft plea for good news.

The tinny speaker picked up Klink's whiny tones immediately. "Yes, General Burkhalter? This is Colonel Klink, so very good to hear from you sir..."

"This is Stabsfeldwebel Friedrich, aide to General Burkhalter. The general wished me to inform you that he located Major-General Hendrich and has dealt with him in an appropriate manner for his offenses." The voice was short and curt.

Kinch gritted his teeth. "Good riddance. But what about Newkirk?"

Klink made a pleased noise. "That is very good news indeed. Not that I would expect anything less fro the illustrious general, of course! If I may ask, was the Major-General handed a severe punishment?"

LeBeau rolled his eyes at the coffeepot. "Non, ask about Newkirk!"

The aide's voice dropped a few more degrees. "I assure you, his punishment was very severe, as suits his offenses. He will not be returning to any of the LuftStalags in the future, or any other camp."

Klink didn't seem to grasp the obvious. "Well, that is indeed good news. These Heer officers simply do not understand how hard it is to run a stalag with efficiency and discipline. Why, my prisoners are still being most unruly, although of course, I am dealing with them with the iron fist of discipline! There will be no escapes!"

"Ja, ja... the general also wished me to remind you that he will be conducting an inspection the day after tomorrow and stated that you are to be ready." Burkhalter's aide seemed to like Klink about as much as Burkhalter himself, which was not very much.

LeBeau reached out towards the coffeepot as if he could throttle Klink through the speaker. "Ask! About! Newkirk!"

Almost in answer to the Frenchman's order, Klink cleared his throat. "Ahh, yes, I must also ask... I mean, request that... that is, did the Major-General... was my missing prisoner still... with... Major-General Hendrich?"

Kinch and LeBeau leaned in closer. There was a short pause before the aide's voice returned. "Jawohl. He was." The two POWs held their breath while they awaited more information. "The general will be returning him when he arrives for the inspection."

"Yes!" Kinch jumped up and was practically tackled by LeBeau. "He's alive!"

LeBeau was all smiles. "I told you that Pierre would come back!"

Kinch shushed him. "Shhh, listen."

But the aide was apparently done sharing facts. "Have your camp ready to pass inspection, Kommandant Klink. We shall arrive the day after tomorrow. Heil Hitler."

"Heil Hitler. Thank you, herr Stabsfeldwebel Friedrich. Please convey my warmest regards too... hello?" Klink had been hung up on again and sighed before disconnecting on his own end.

LeBeau was already headed out of Hogan's office. "I'll tell Carter and Olson. Should we tell the camp?"

Kinch snorted. "We won't have to. If Klink doesn't call a special formation in the next half hour to announce it, I'll eat my hat.

* * *

Kinchloe's hat remained safe. Klink waited a full twenty minutes before he called for a special formation. Kinch elbowed Carter as they lined up. "Stop smiling. We don't know about it yet, remember?"

Carter sobered and did his best to frown appropriately. He'd spent the last two days sinking further into a private funk over his missing best friend. It was worse when he remembered that Newkirk had been angry at him before he was taken away. It had taken an effort from Kinch and Olson to bolster his spirits but with the good news, he felt so relieved that he had returned to his normal sunny disposition.

LeBeau nudged Carter from the side as they lined up. "I told you so."

Carter flashed him a quick grin. "Yes, and you've said that to me twenty times since you found out."

"Oui. Because I was right. Now will you stop moping around?" LeBeau had stubbornly clung to his insistence that Newkirk would return. He had snapped angrily at Carter repeatedly. Carter hadn't argued. He knew that the little Frenchman had been worried.

They all quieted when Klink began his speech. He was wearing the most smug expression possible as if his own efforts had resolved the situation.

Finally the Kommandant got around to the important parts. "And so, it is my duty to reassure you that my authority here at Stalag 13 is upheld and Major-General Hendrich will not be returning. He is facing the most severe discipline for his interference with the running of the only prison camp with a perfect no-escape record." Klink strutted back and forth, his thin smile of satisfaction clear to all. "Furthermore, you may be glad to know that your duly elected Man of Confidence Corporal Newkirk is being returned to Stalag 13." Klink paused while the assembled prisoners made loud noises at the welcome news. "There will be an inspection of Camp 13 on the day after tomorrow and I expect a little bit of gratitude for my actions on your behalf. I want all of the barracks cleaned and I expect the compound to be spotless" He shook a fist at them to show he was fierce as well as compassionate. "And I want every prisoner to be on their best behavior for the general's visit." He straightened and gazed down his nose at them all. "That is all. Dismissed." With the usual careless wave of one hand, Klink dismissed them all.

As Klink strode back inside his offices, several prisoners crowded Kinch. One of the other barracks' chiefs pushed forward. "Is he right? Is Newkirk coming back?"

Another shoved in. "Is he hurt bad? What about Colonel Hogan?"

"Yeah, when's the Colonel gonna be brought back?"

Kinch held his hands up and everyone quieted. "Look fellas, I know they're bringing Newkirk when Burkhalter comes to inspect the camp. Colonel Hogan should be back really soon. I don't know if Newkirk is hurt but he sure wasn't un-hurt when he left so don't be surprised if he's beat up some." Kinch grinned. "But we'll be getting our Cockney back so everyone better enjoy the last few games of poker you can win before he gets back." Everyone laughed and the crowd broke up.

Olson was smiling. "Let me guess. You want me to get all the chiefs to organize the cleaning details to get the camp cleaned up to reward Klink, right?"

Kinch tilted his head. "No, I want you to get all the chiefs to organize cleaning details to keep everyone distracted and tired so no one causes any trouble." He patted Olson's shoulder. "Hogan is going to be back any time and if I have to report on this whole mess, I'd rather do it in a clean camp with an empty cooler."

"And maybe he won't notice we've misplaced his pickpocket?" Olson's humor was evident. He was finally beginning to think that things would work out.

"Well, Newkirk is sneaky, maybe Hogan will assume he's around and just being sneaky." Kinch exchanged a look with Olson. "At least Burkhalter is bringing him back. Even Newkirk can't get into any trouble while he's being watched by a general, a general's aide and a general's guards!"

* * *

End Chapter

Camp update at last! So you can now relax that the Underground prisoners are not the Heroes(and no, it's also not Hogan, it's really just random Underground members or whoever is being accused, honest.)

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'm very glad that people are enjoying. Next chapter... Time for some thrilling heroics!


	16. Chapter 16

First, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY for Hogan's Heroes today Sept 17, 2015 as it is the 50th anniversary of the first airing of the show. Yay!

Second, thank you to all of you guys who read fics and leave reviews and write fics and talk about the show and are just in general awesome folks. The fandom is only as good as it's fans and with Hogan's Heroes, it's one tremendously awesome fandom!

Third, Thank you to TinySprite and BitsandPieces and my twitter gang.

Now yes, go read. "Time for some thrilling heroics." (Where's that quote from? LOL)

* * *

 _Nighttime_

Newkirk was laying perfectly still, impatiently listening to Herman breathing across the room. The guard had settled in the chair next to the door and was beginning to doze. If he would just fall all the way asleep, Newkirk's crazy scheme might have a shot. If he wasn't asleep, Newkirk would just end up shot. The Brit shifted under his blanket, wishing he had his overcoat yet again. It was chilly on the floor and he'd taken off his uniform blouse to sleep in just the woolen pullover and his pants. The jacket wouldn't have added much in the way of insulation.

He only had another couple of hours before Dietrich would show up to relieve Herman. The two always switched off between one and two in the morning. He hadn't ever checked to see exactly what time it was when they switched. He'd been more interested in making sure he woke up when it happened so he could avoid Herman kicking him as a farewell for the few hours the guard would be gone. Newkirk wasn't certain exactly what grudge Herman held against the English, above the normal fact that they were enemies in the war, but whatever it was, he held to it religiously. Burkhalter's annoyance when he was caught meant only that Herman was a bit sneakier and didn't hit or kick Newkirk as hard. Newkirk was fairly practiced at taking a fraction of a hit or kick by rolling with it or moving aside but his dignity didn't feel any better.

There was a soft snuffling noise as Herman's head tilted over into the wall with the softest of thuds. Newkirk listened and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the guard seemed to finally be asleep. The chains on Newkirk's wrists had long since been wrapped in a corner of blanket to muffle their movements as the Brit unlocked them. He could now slip out from under the blankets and leave them rolled up in a ball to approximate the sleeping form of a cowed British airman. As long as no guards poked the blanket pile, it might fool the casual glance.

Ghosting over to the door, Newkirk held his breath while pressing his ear to it to listen for any disturbance or outer guard. There was nothing at all and he reached for the doorknob silently, Herman only inches away sleeping.

He had the handle turned and began to slip it open when the door tapped the leg of Herman's chair. Newkirk froze and waited while Herman let out a soft grunt and then settled back into sleep. Once he'd quieted, Newkirk eased the door back to closed and released the handle gently. Kneeling, he felt down the chair to the leg and found that Herman, not being at all stupid, had set his chair so the leg blocked the door from opening.

Getting to his feet, Newkirk clenched his fists. He had no doubt that Herman's act was more to ensure he was awakened by Dietrich or any odd official trying to enter to avoid being caught sleeping rather than to prevent the seemingly completely terrified and cowed POW from escaping. But right now, the reason behind the act mattered little. He couldn't open the door. If he couldn't get out of the room, he couldn't go help those prisoners.

He padded silently to the window and peered out at a completely dark courtyard. The Allied bombing raids meant that all windows were blacked out and almost all outdoor lights were extinguished to prevent an area from becoming a target. He leaned his forehead against the glass and gazed out blankly, trying to think. Hogan would think of a way out of this. Hogan would be able to rescue those agents.

His eyes fastened on the thin ledge outside of the window, barely visible in the light of a thin crescent moon. Newkirk smiled to himself. He wasn't Hogan. He was a Cockney thief. He'd bet his last lucky penny that Hogan couldn't climb a wall like a cat to burgle the homes of people wealthier than they should be.

But Newkirk could. If he could climb up a wall to get into a window to steal things, he could climb down a wall to get to the prisoners too. He stretched, feeling the pull of his broken rib and making a mental note of the damage and how it would limit his movements. The stiff bruising would make it a slow climb but there wouldn't be any reason he couldn't do it. His eyes took in the distance. If he was misjudging his abilities, he'd not be likely to survive the fall, so he might as well go for it. He couldn't be punished for attempting an escape or rescue if he were dead, so why worry over that possibility?

The window slid open silently and he slipped out into the chill air quickly so he could close it before the cold air woke up Herman. Balanced on the thin stone ledge, Newkirk peered around himself as best he could and began to work his way downward. He quickly discovered that he was woefully out of practice and that his stiff bruised muscles were not at all pleased to be practicing right now in the middle of the night in the cold air. His uniform wasn't nearly warm enough, especially not with his blouse removed. The stone was nearly frozen under his shaky fingers and the protrusions that seemed so prominent from inside the window suddenly seemed much more shallow out in the danger of the open air.

No thinking about it now. Just moving. Newkirk tried to move as quickly as possible but his progress down the sheer wall seemed to be excruciatingly slow. When he was younger, this had seemed so easy, he'd scaled walls like this like a squirrel. Newkirk grimaced. 'When he was younger', as if he were an old man now. He snorted softly to himself. He could do this easily now. Well, it would have been easy if he hadn't been beaten and starved and doing it with a broken rib.

A door opened somewhere below him and he froze in place. It was some Heer guard, wandering out to have a cigarette. After a few minutes of walking around the parking area, checking cars and smoking, the guard went back inside, never noticing the POW clinging to a wall above the courtyard. If he had looked up at the wall, Newkirk was certain he would have seen his outline easily. He took one deep breath in and went back to working his way down the stone wall.

The ground under his foot startled him. He'd been concentrating so hard, he hadn't noticed how far down he was. Dropping behind some shrubs, Newkirk checked the area and began to work his way around the building looking for the cellar entrance. He had to go around one corner of the hotel before he spotted the alcove and the single guard standing there.

A quick survey showed that the guard was alone. The door behind him was probably locked and Newkirk wondered briefly if there would be a second guard inside but decided that there would be little reason for that back up. If there were a guard inside, he'd just have to deal with it once he dealt with the outer guard and the lock. He watched the bored guard. The German never even bothered to look around or walk a line, just stood there. Newkirk slipped closer until he was crouched only a few feet away and then suddenly wondered what he was doing in the middle of Germany by himself about to take down an armed German guard. He didn't even have a stick. A quick search of the bushes turned up a short piece of wood and he gripped it for a moment. He didn't feel any better with a stick and put it back down.

Watching the guard stand there, Newkirk finally scooped up a tiny pebble and tossed it over the guard's head to draw his attention to the opposite side and slid out of the brush and behind the man. Now he stood silently right behind an armed German guard and he didn't even have the stupid stick. His eyes lit on the holstered gun at the guard's waist and he gently unsnapped the leather holster and removed the handgun without alerting the guard. Now he was armed.

Suddenly he frowned. Well, he couldn't very well shoot the guard, not without bringing every German in five blocks running. So now he stood silently behind a German guard who had a rifle while he himself held a completely useless handgun. Even the stupid stick would be more use. He puffed out a breath in complete exasperation at himself and suddenly froze when the guard felt the puff of air and whirled.

For just one second they both stared at each other in shock. Newkirk at his own stupidity and the guard at the sight of a RAF airman who had to all appearances teleported to behind him with no warning.

Newkirk smiled. It never hurt to smile. "Well, 'ello!" When the guard jerked his rifle up, Newkirk swung as hard as he could and hit the man just under the edge of the helmet with his stolen handgun. The guard went down in a heap and Newkirk stared down at him for a moment. "Blimey, I must be loony." He turned to the door, spitting his lockpick out and working the lock quickly. "I am going to have strong words with Colonel Hogan about 'is being a bad influence on me sense of self-preservation, I am. This is ridiculous." The door opened easily and he stepped inside cautiously. "Anyone in 'ere what doesn't want to be in 'ere anymore?"

Faces appeared out of the darkness. "Who are you?" "What is going on?" "Where is the guard?" "He's English!"

"Who's in bloody charge?" Newkirk found all four of the agents were wearing ankle shackles and he knelt to began unlocking them. "I can't 'elp you more than getting you out of 'ere, but you'll be free." He turned to look out of the open door into the darkness and thought quickly. "You 'ave to take the guard with you. Dump 'im somewhere no one will find 'im, but get 'im away from 'ere. Maybe the SS will think 'e was an agent too."

"Who are you?" One of the agents gripped his upper arm. "How many people are with you?"

Newkirk laughed softly. "No one." He shrugged off the grip and unlocked the last man's chains. "Just get away, you're on your own, mates. Just take the guard with you, I 'it 'im pretty 'ard... good luck." He pushed them out of the door, handing over the gun to the last one out and watched the little group pick up the limp body of the guard and disappear into the streets. With any luck at all, they'd know a safe house and a route to get them far away.

He stuffed his lockpick back into his mouth and exited the cellar, closing the door and relocking it. Working his way back around the building didn't take as long now that he knew where he was going. All he had to do was to get back into the room, without alerting any Germans and without waking up Herman. Piece of pie, as Carter liked to say.

He rubbed his hands together and got ready to climb.

* * *

End Chapter

Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to all you most awesome readers and grand reviewers. Love you all. I'm glad that the thrilling heroics were satisfactory.

Once again, _German will be in italics_. Thanks to TinySprite for all her patient help during the writing.

* * *

Climbing up the wall was harder than coming down it earlier. When he added the exhaustion from the climb and tension of the rescue to his already chilled hands, Newkirk was amazed he was still inching his way up the wall at all. When he reached the window, he balanced himself carefully and peeped into the still dark room. His hand was on the window to slide it open when there was a slight amount of light inside the room and he moved out of the way. Peering over the edge of the windowsill, he watched with growing panic as the door opened to Dietrich and Herman having a soft annoyed exchange. Apparently Dietrich suspected why the door had been blocked by the chair and Herman was denying it.

Newkirk tried not to begin hyperventilating. He wasn't IN the room. He was outside of the room and even if he pretended to be attempting escape, when the captives were found missing, Newkirk wouldn't have an alibi. He clung tightly to the wall and listened intently to the two guards quietly talking. Then Herman started across the room towards the empty bundle of blankets that was pretending to be the prisoner.

Letting out the softest of moans, Newkirk began wondering if he would have time to climb back down and attempt to escape for real. If he were the most lucky bugger in all of Germany, maybe he could get somewhere to warn Hogan and the others to evacuate the camp. If Burkhalter suspected that Newkirk rescued the agents, it was only a matter of time before the SS decided to investigate Hochstetter's long-term claims of Hogan's men being spies and saboteurs.

A slightly louder voice from Dietrich made him stop his inner fears and listen. " _Nein, leave the Englander to sleep. You are just being a bully now._ " Dietrich's annoyance was plain and Newkirk cheered inwardly for his new favorite Kraut. " _Go to the room and sleep. Try not to wake Friedrich too or he will complain in the morning_."

Herman didn't stomp out of the room, but he definitely was making it clear exactly what he thought of Dietrich's interference. The door shut firmly and the room was dark again. Dietrich moved across the room to very near Newkirk's blankets but then went back to the door to stand guard.

Newkirk let out a soft breath of relief. He hadn't been discovered. Then he banged his head onto the stone wall softly. He was still hanging outside the window and Dietrich wasn't the sort of guard to nap on duty. He had no way to get back inside without being caught. He turned loose with one hand and shook it gingerly, breathing on it to try to warm the fingers. As he repeated the actions with his other hand, he thought to himself that sometimes being a hero was too hard. Where was Hogan to do these things? Why didn't Hogan ever end up hanging outside in the cold waiting to be discovered and shot? He rested his face against the stones for a moment and tried to think positive.

He hadn't been discovered missing yet. The Underground agents were free and hopefully on their way to safety. He wasn't in Hendrich's clutches anymore. And although he was chilled to the bone already, it wasn't raining.

A soft snowflake landed on his cheek and he blinked upward at the suddenly blurry night sky.

No, it wasn't raining. It was snowing.

"Cor blimey. What next?" said Newkirk. He tightened his hold on the stones and resolved to wait. Something might happen to give him the opening he needed. He tilted his face upwards. "No." he said firmly. "Stop snowing."

Within a few seconds the snow stopped and he blinked around in amazement. He peeped into the window and whispered in the softest of voices. "Go outside in the hall."

Apparently the snowclouds listened to poor cold RAF airmen a lot better than Germans did. Dietrich didn't move. Newkirk huddled against the wall and waited.

* * *

It was almost an hour later, when Newkirk's arms were beginning to shake so badly that he was beginning to accept the idea that he would fall to his death in the courtyard when there was a commotion. He peered along the wall of the hotel at the corner as shouts erupted. Within a few minutes the SS lieutenant came stomping out of the hotel, screaming at everyone and directing them to search the surrounding streets. Newkirk hid his face against the stone as if that would somehow keep him invisible.

Suddenly the lieutenant's voice came very clearly from the courtyard. " _Go bring me that Englander! He must have had something to do with this! He is the only Allied agent in the area! Bring him to me now! I will gut the pig if he was involved!"_

Panic coursed through every cell of his body. The SS were going to come to the room to get him and he wasn't there and they'd look out the window and find him and he would either fall to the courtyard or be dragged inside but either way it was the end for this one stupid Cockney who couldn't leave well enough alone. Why was he so stupid? Why did he think he could rescue other prisoners? He'd pushed his luck and now it was turning against him.

The loud banging on the room door made him tense up further. Dietrich jumped to his feet and opened it. The SS man that tried to barge in was firmly pushed back from the doorway. "Nein." Dietrich wasn't a large man but he was sturdy and determined. Newkirk listened anxiously as he argued with the SS trooper.

" _This is General Burkhalter's private rooms and you may not enter with the general's express permission_." Dietrich looked towards the general's bedroom and motioned the SS away from the door and followed him out to speak in the hallway. " _I will not have the general disturbed for no reason_!" The voices were muffled as the door closed.

Newkirk stared for only a split second before lifting the window and climbing in. He shut it and fell into his blanket and rolled up in it. He had just enough time to roll onto his side before Dietrich came back in, shutting the door behind himself quietly. From his muttering he had sent the SS trooper away for now. Newkirk tried to slow his breathing and get his manacles back onto his shaking wrists without rattling the chains. It took him far longer than it should have.

He heard Dietrich walk over to look down at him and forced himself to lie still, breathing deeply and slowly to mimic a deep sleep. After a few seconds, Dietrich went back to the door. It was not very long before the loud angry voice of the SS lieutenant approached up the stairs. His stomping was clear even through the door and it took an effort for Newkirk to lie still and feign sleep when he knew the man was coming for him. The only way out alive was to act innocent and be completely ignorant and hope that General Burkhalter's possessive nature would save him from a summary execution.

The door banged open and Dietrich was swept to one side as the SS lieutenant came charging in. The lights flicked on brightly outside of Newkirk's blanket and for one short second he felt like a little boy hoping his blanket would protect him from the monsters.

" _Where is the Englander_!?"

A hand seized him and hauled him up. Before Newkirk could get his feet underneath himself properly, he was snatched across the room and slammed facedown onto the table.

" _Where are they?! I will shoot you dead, you English pig! Where are they_?!" screamed the lieutenant. He pinned Newkirk down and screamed into his ear in German repeatedly. " _Where ARE they_?!"

"Please don't 'urt me! Please please I didn't do anything wrong! I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Newkirk went for a complete hysterical fit, hoping it would convince everyone. "I'll give it back! I'll pay for it! What did I do? Please don't 'urt me! Please don't!" He raised his voice shrilly. "Please don't 'urt me! I'm sorry! Kamarad! Please! Biddy! Biddy! Please!"

The lieutenant leaned on him harder. " _I know you pig, I know you helped them escape_!" Little drops of spit were landing on Newkirk's cheek as the madman hissed at him. " _I will gut you and listen to you scream as you die! Tell me! Tell me where they are!"_

Dietrich tried to interfere. " _He does not speak German... he can't answer you._ " He didn't quite dare to physically interfere, especially as two more SS troopers came in to push him further away. _"The Englander was here, under guard!"_

It didn't take very much acting on Newkirk's part to look the part of a hysterically panicked prisoner. He really just had to let go of his control and shake violently while screaming in terror. "I'm sorry I'm sorry please stop 'urting me, don't! Don't give me back to Otto! Don't 'urt me!"

As he'd hoped, the terrified cries brought General Burkhalter out of his room in his robe. "What is going on here!?" The portly general's anger was nearly a match for the lieutenant's. " _Dietrich, explain why you have allowed these men into my rooms!"_

" _Herr general, the lieutenant thinks that your prisoner freed his prisoners_." Dietrich hastened to continue. " _But it is impossible, sir, the Englander has been here in this room all evening. We have been on duty the entire time."_

" _This Englishman is the only one who could have helped them escape!_ " The lieutenant bent over Newkirk even closer. _"He will confess and tell me where they are and I will shoot him!_ "

Newkirk continued to babble in panic and shake. "Please please I didn't take it! I didn't steal anything! I swear! Please don't 'urt me!"

Burkhalter had had enough of the noise, as Newkirk had hoped. "Release my prisoner!" He paused and then added in a snarl. "That's an order, lieutenant!"

Newkirk was released reluctantly by the SS man and he took the opportunity to theatrically collapse onto the floor and curl up, still babbling loudly about his innocence and willingness to make up for whatever slight he'd been responsible for.

Burkhalter turned on the SS lieutenant who was protesting. The general practically barked out his words. " _You cannot truly believe that this corporal was the only person who could have caused your prisoners to escape._ " His disdain was evident. " _Are you trying to tell me that there are no other Underground agents in all of Germany that could have freed them? Or perhaps you are trying to cover your own incompetence? Where are the guards that were watching them? Why did you not have them in restraints, locked up securely?"_

Finally turning his attention fully to the general, the SS officer narrowed his eyes. " _I did have them under guard! They were locked in the cellar, in chains!_ " He seemed to calm slightly while staring down at the cowering POW. _"My guard is missing along with the prisoners."_

" _And yet you still think that this prisoner, under constant guard in my personal rooms, is the person who freed them. Tell me, lieutenant, did they teach logic in your school or did you advance in rank because of family connections?_ " General Burkhalter rocked on his heels and then turned to Friedrich as he rushed in. " _Friedrich, tell this... officer... about the guards on Corporal Newkirk."_

Friedrich looked slightly discomfited for once. "Yes herr general." He turned to the SS officer. " _They take shifts, one guard is always in the outer room here for the general's security_." He indicated the corner where the rumpled blanket still lay. " _The prisoner stays right there and never leaves the room without a guard attending him."_ He looked steadily at the lieutenant. _"The general's prisoner is never left by himself, and we would never leave him alone in the very next room to the general himself. I take herr general's security very personally, sir_." His eyes kept going to Newkirk still loudly crying out his innocence and begging not to be hurt.

Burkhalter looked down with an expression of disgust. _"Dietrich, take the corporal to the other room and calm him down before he has a heart attack._ " He paused. _"Or I shoot him to shut him up myself._ "

Dietrich took Newkirk by an arm, wincing when he shrieked at the touch. " _Yes, herr general, right away_." He pulled him to his feet, speaking slowly and calmly, even if it was still in German. " _Come, Englander, we will go sit in the other room... come along, he won't hurt you... no one will hurt you, shhh..._ "

Newkirk stared at him fearfully, playing it to the max. "I've been a good prisoner, I 'aven't done anything wrong, I didn't take anything, I'll give it back, I promise I won't do it again, please don't let him 'urt me please..." He jerked away from the SS guards at the door and trembled violently. He let himself be soothed by Dietrich and led out to the second room. Herman glared at him but let him pass with nothing more than a look of disgust.

Once in the room without the others, Dietrich sat him on one of the beds and gave him water. Newkirk continued to protest his innocence but slowly quieted with the continued reassurances. The longer that he sat without the SS troopers coming to take him to be shot, the more hopeful he became. He still held to his fearful expression and shook anytime that Dietrich looked at him but inside he was somewhat smug. The colonel might be a great conman when it came to confusing the Germans but Hogan couldn't have pulled off a hysterical fit the way he'd just done. He frowned to himself. That was really more due to the colonel having a great deal more dignity than Newkirk. Mentally shrugging, he decided it didn't matter. He had still just pulled off a caper worthy of the operation all by himself. He hadn't even gotten beaten over it.

Dietrich looked at him and Newkirk shrank back and trembled. His guard pulled one of the blankets off a bed and draped it on him. " _You are trouble, Englander._ "

Newkirk stared him before whispering hoarsely in reply. "Ja. Englander." He gazed up at him hopefully and got patted. Yes. Newkirk was the best actor in all of Germany.

As long as he didn't get shot, that is. He sipped at his water and waited nervously. Burkhalter had seemed more angry at the lieutenant than anything else and with any sort of luck at all, he would send him packing and keep Newkirk. After all, Newkirk was Luftwaffe property.

* * *

End Chapter

Newkirk is a fine actor.


	18. Chapter 18

First, apology for the late update. I had a crazy busy week of stuff, including a lot of good things and no one reminded me or yelled at me about missing the update.

Second, the same thank to TinySprite for being my beta and my fellow writers who are such encouragement.

German will be in italics. I have provided a translation of a couple phrases where I actually used German in the fic. Any mistakes in the translation are mine.

Thank you all for reading!

* * *

By morning, the SS had all left, scattering to search for the escaped prisoners and missing guard. Burkhalter was in a truly foul mood, having missed most of his night's sleep. Newkirk was in a bit of a haze, having had no sleep at all. The SS had returned to question him with Friedrich translating and the lieutenant had been no more pleasant than when he'd first manhandled Newkirk.

Spending almost an hour cowering and shaking in mostly pretend terror was still exhausting. He hadn't been relaxed at any time, being quite aware that his life hung on Burkhalter remaining more annoyed with the SS than with the POW. He was now too exhausted to play the game properly and was choosing to stay as silent as possible. By playing the part of a traumatized prisoner, he was pulling it off in a passable fashion. His silence didn't annoy Burkhalter, and it gained him a small amount of sympathy from Friedrich. Even Dietrich kept Herman from treating Newkirk harshly.

It was mid-morning before Burkhalter was ready to leave. The manacles had only been removed long enough for him to put his uniform blouse on and then they were securely fastened again. This time, the Brit made no protest over it. Newkirk's usually hooded eyes were now closed to mere slits as he dozed on his feet. When Dietrich took his elbow to steer him out, he jumped and exclaimed. The guard shushed him and motioned for him to leave behind Friedrich. Burkhalter was already settled in the backseat of his car by the time they arrived with the last of his items and Newkirk.

Leaning back in the rear-facing seat, Newkirk tried to stay awake. At this point his fears were twofold. If he slept too deeply, he was afraid he'd begin forgetting the lines of information he kept rehearsing in his head. More importantly, he was afraid if he fell asleep, he'd smash his head on the car door when they hit one of the many potholes. If he started bleeding on Burkhalter's leather seats, he was fairly certain the general would stop the car, put him in the ditch and shoot him. This morning, Burkhalter was short tempered even with Friedrich. Herman and Dietrich kept their mouths shut and their eyes averted. Newkirk tried to keep his eyes on the floorboards.

The two hour drive was filled with tense silence with sporadic rants from Burkhalter on the state of the roads. Each time the rant would wind it's way through the same complaints until the topic landed on how all the fault lay at Newkirk's feet. As a member of England's Royal Air Force, his planes were dropping bombs on the roads. Newkirk had quietly apologized for all of his military's transgressions. Appeased momentarily, Burkhalter would turn back to brooding as they rode in silence.

When the car stopped, Newkirk jerked his head up in a slight panic that he'd been asleep. Looking around wildly, he found they'd stopped at a large Luftwaffe headquarters and Burkhalter was hauling himself out of the car. He looked to Friedrich who was ignoring him and then at Dietrich who motioned him out.

"Raus, Englander." Dietrich took a firm hold on one of his arms. "Come." Newkirk walked slowly, feigning more exhaustion than he was feeling as a wave of anxiety shot through him. Burkhalter and Friedrich were not even looking at their prisoner. Was he being taken for interrogation after all? Sent off to a labor camp? His eyes widened. If Dietrich started around back to the courtyard he could just barely see, Newkirk was making a break for it, promise or no promise. He'd rather be shot running than shot standing.

Luckily for his tired legs, Dietrich entered a door on the side of the building and took him to a small cold cell. Newkirk stepped in and looked at Dietrich mournfully. "What's going on? What did I do?"

Dietrich gave him a little push further in. "I will come get you when the general is ready to leave. Stay here and don't cause any trouble."

"Don't forget me." Newkirk listened to the door closing and turned a short circle in the bare room. Concrete. Nice and homey. He took a deep breath in and picked a corner to sit in. Maybe he could nap, just a little. He began reciting his lines in his head and worried that he was fuzzy on a few of them. If he slept, he'd forget all of the information. He yawned and leaned against the wall. If he didn't get some sleep, he'd definitely forget all of it. If he could just sleep a little, if Burkhalter didn't forget and leave him here, if things could just go back to the bizarre world that the Heroes all considered 'normal'... his eyes closed.

If only he were home...

* * *

Newkirk was only vaguely aware that someone was talking to him. His dream became more vague and the scene of struggling to serve a crowd of German officers who kept demanding more and more from him while accusing him of being English instead of believing his German civilian disguise slowly dissipated.

" _Horst du mich?_ " The quiet voice spoke to him in German.

" _Jawohl. Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen_?" Newkirk struggled to drag himself out of the muddled place his brain was. He was so very tired. He had to keep his cover intact... remember to speak only German...

There was a pause and the voice spoke again quietly. " _Was hast du gesagt_?" Who was talking to him? Newkirk tried to remember and took a deeper breath in. The voice was familiar... where...

Newkirk suddenly froze. The voice was General Burkhalter's aide Friedrich. Newkirk **wasn't** undercover and **wasn't** supposed to even understand German.

'If he understood German, I'd shoot him myself.' sounded so clearly in his memory that it made his eyes fly open. Friedrich was only a foot away, crouching down low and looking at him with confusion. Newkirk shot upright and scrambled to get further away. He only moved a few inches since he was already against the wall. "Please don't hurt me!" he blurted desperately. His mind was still muzzy with the dream and sleep and he was trying to fall back into the persona he'd carefully built in the Germans' eyes.

Friedrich held up a hand and tried to soothe him. " _Nein... Niemand wird dich verletzen_."

Newkirk understood the German perfectly but put on a confused face. "What? No speak Duetch..."

Friedrich's expression went flat. "Nein, Englander, you understood me perfectly, you answered in perfect German a moment ago." His eyes were sharp. "Who are you? Are you really a spy?"

"No!" Newkirk let some of his inner panic show. Anyone accused of being a spy would panic some. "I don't even speak German!" He was trying to remember what he'd said in that half-awake state.

The face that had so often shared a little smirk or tolerant look was now hard and uncompromising. Friedrich had been willing to see that the prisoner of war was treated fairly. It was obvious from his lack of expression that he was much less willing for a spy. "Come, Englander. You spoke perfect German."

"What did I say?" Newkirk put on a confused face. Innocent, innocent, innocent... he was a perfect lamb of innocence... lie, lie to make Hogan proud of how many lies you told... he struggled. He reached up to rub at his eyes. "I know some words! 'Biddy' means 'please'. 'Kamarad' means 'don't shoot'." He blinked up at Friedrich. "I... I know... "

Friedrich shook his head but there was a crack in the harsh expression. "Nein. You said ' _Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen_ ' in perfect German."

Newkirk couldn't stop the blood from draining from his face. He'd been dreaming of serving as waitstaff... he looked up at that suspicious face and swallowed. 'LIE! LIE' ran through his head. "I know ' _Möchten Sie für mehr Wein interessieren?_ ' too. " He carefully accented the words perfectly. "T-the kommandant was... most particular about how I said it when I waited 'is table."

Friedrich paused and just a hint of confusion showed. "Kommandant Klink?"

"No..." Newkirk shook his head and drew his legs up to wrap both arms around them. Looking up at the looming German, he knew he looked vulnerable and helpless and was careful in exactly how he tilted his head to make his eyes wider. "T-the kommandant before Colonel Klink. H-he didn't want to 'ear English spoken at 'is dinner table."

Friedrich gave him a confused frown. "But, you had no English accent when you said it, you must..."

Hazarding the interruption, Newkirk threw in a little bit of trembling to sell it. "When you get whipped for mispronouncing it, you learn to say it right well." He swallowed nervously. Was he overselling it? Was Friedrich buying this line of bull puckey? He was using partial truths... he had served the former kommandant's table... Burkhalter knew he'd served table for Klink's dinner parties. Just a little truth to leaven the bread of lies.

Suddenly Friedrich's expression turned to pity. "It is not easy to be a prisoner." He backed up a little. "General Burkhalter does try to see that the Geneva Conventions are followed."

Newkirk eyed him. "Yeah, but only so 'e don't bring the Red Cross down on 'im."

"Nein, you misjudge him." Friedrich motioned for him to follow. "Come. We are leaving." He inhaled deeply. "Quickly now, herr general is in no mood to be kept waiting."

Newkirk scrambled to his feet, making it obvious the chains were still hampering him. He was hoping that he'd convinced Friedrich well enough that he wouldn't even bother mentioning the slip up to Burkhalter. The last thing any of them needed was Burkhalter having even the slightest suspicion. If he joined Hochstetter in suspecting Hogan and the rest of them of being saboteurs, the operation would be crippled if not shut down. He followed the aide quietly, reaching up awkwardly to rub at his face, wincing at the still sore bruises.

When they were back in the car, Newkirk looked around trying to judge the time. When his eyes landed on Burkhalter, he could tell that Friedrich had been right about the general's mood.

Burkhalter's voice was chill. "Are you checking for escape routes, Corporal Newkirk?"

Having just an instant, Newkirk tried to think of something respectful to reply with. "No, herr general. I'd never be so obvious if I were plotting an escape." Or, he could taunt the annoyed general. That was a great tactic too. Oh, look at the nice ditch. His body would look lovely laying in it. "And of course, herr general, I did give me word not to escape from you, herr general." Burkhalter didn't look any more pleased and he quickly added, "And of course, I wouldn't 'ave a chance escaping from such a brilliant and resourceful herr general as yourself, being all brilliant... and resourceful. And merciful. Did I mention the merciful part, herr general?" Was that a twitch of amusement? Amusement would be good. Amusement didn't lead to being shot in a ditch.

"Quiet." said Burkhalter mildly. "If you continue to babble, you will remind me of Klink and I do not wish to lose my breakfast."

"At least you got breakfast." muttered Newkirk. He straightened in his seat. "Sorry herr general." He cast his eyes to the floorboards.

"You should be sorry." Burkhalter sounded annoyed. "It is your fault that I was kept up to all hours by the SS."

Newkirk felt his temper flare. "It's 'ardly my fault that some SS guard turned out to be a spy and let them prisoners go free!" He had carefully thought out the fake scenario. "I didn't ask for no SS goon to come smacking me around accusing me of being a spy. I didn't ask to be dragged out of camp by some Kraut psychopath." Newkirk huffed angrily. "I didn't ask for there to be a war in the first place. That was all you guys. I could be back 'ome, 'aving a pint with me mates and flirting with a barmaid." His glare met Burkhalter's and he was abruptly reminded of how cozy that nearby ditch would be for his body. "Sorry, herr general. I spoke out of turn, herr general. Won't 'appen again, herr general."

After several long tense seconds, Burkhalter turned to his aide with a smirk. "See why I like Hogan and his men? They are entertaining enemies."

Newkirk let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "Danke, herr general. I do try not to be boring."

Burkhalter let out a short laugh. "Yes. But you have been entertaining enough. The next outburst will see you in a labor camp. Understood?" There was a sharpness to his tone.

"Ja-wall, herr general."

"Please, Corporal Newkirk, either learn to pronounce the words or stop trying to use German." groaned Burkhalter tiredly.

"Yes, herr general. Sorry, herr general." Newkirk tried to look contrite over it.

Friedrich leaned forward. "Why do you think it was the guard?" When Newkirk gave him a confused look, he gestured impatiently. "You said it was the guard that let the prisoners go free."

"Oh." Newkirk made a show of thinking about it. "That SS goon was pretty clear that 'is guard was gone with the prisoners, right? Makes it clear, why else would 'e be gone?"

Burkhalter chuffed at him. "Perhaps the prisoners killed him. Or whoever freed them took him prisoner and forced him away with them. Or he was lured away."

Newkirk stared at him. "Oh." Looking at the floor, he swallowed carefully. "Well I guess I didn't think of that."

"Obviously." said Burkhalter.

"Well, I'm Royal Air Force, not the spy brigade." Newkirk waved a hand vaguely. "I'm not supposed to know this stuff." He put on a sulky face. "I'm not stupid. I was very good at my job."

"What job was that, Corporal Newkirk?" asked Friedrich casually.

"Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force." replied Newkirk easily.

"So I've heard." Burkhalter's temper seemed to have passed. "We are going to a stalag and I expect for you to continue your good behavior. No speaking to other prisoners about escaping, no plotting behind my back."

Friedrich spoke up as well. "No talking back or disrespectful remarks."

Newkirk got a ghost of a smile. "No monkey business." At the confused looks, he tilted his head ruefully. "Our barracks guard says that when he tells us to behave."

"And do you obey it?" Friedrich's smirk was back.

"Not if I can bloody well 'elp it." Newkirk's smirk answered the aide's. "It 'asn't worked for me so far, but when you're a prisoner of war, you really 'ave nothing else to do."

"Understandable." Burkhalter chuckled. "If you find yourself bored at this stalag, try asking for a book."

Newkirk brightened immediately. "You 'ave books?'

Burkhalter smiled at him. "Yes, I always have extra copies of Mein Kampf."

Slumping back in the seat, Newkirk gave him a baleful stare. "That wasn't very funny."

Friedrich was laughing softly. "I disagree."

"You would."

* * *

End Chapter

The two German phrases...

Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen? (how may I serve?)

Möchten Sie für mehr Wein interessieren? (Would you care for more wine?)

Next week, the chapter that Kaitlin has been anticipating for weeks!


	19. Chapter 19

Slightly early update, to make up for the super late update 'last week' that ended up being this week. But in the meantime I got a award in my medieval group! Basically for being awesome. So yeah, I'm pretty stoked.

Kaitlynn it's your time! Finally!

Thank you to TinySprite and all you authors who encourage and stoke the fires of the fandom. thank you to all you readers who keep encouraging me to write and post.

* * *

Stalag 13

When the unknown staffcar came into camp, it caught everyone's attention. Even the kommandant's speech had not calmed all of the prisoner's fears. The very welcome sight of Hogan in his familiar bomber jacket and cap had a near instantaneous effect, however. Every prisoner who saw him immediately brightened up. Hogan's men had kept things running but they were not Colonel Hogan. Word of his return spread quickly and a certain small group immediately went to his office to set up the coffeepot to listen in.

The faux Abwehr officers escorted Hogan into the kommandant's office, surprising Klink at his paperwork.

Klink jumped to his feet, spreading his hands to welcome them in. "Gentlemen! So glad that you have returned. Colonel Hogan..." Klink paused in horror at the sight. "What happened to your eye?" The dismay in his voice was obvious. First the Englander and now Hogan? And Burkhalter due to arrive tomorrow? Klink wrung his hands and turned to the two Abwehr. "What did you do? I did not think you would... damage my prisoner."

"Silence." The first Underground agent was excellent at playing scary German officers and enjoyed terrifying stalag officers best. "The prisoner elected not to be cooperative. He learned that the Abwehr have no patience for games." His frown took in Hogan's black eye. "He is not greatly injured. You coddle these enemy prisoners." He waved a hand dismissively. "He knew nothing useful. We are returning him to rot in this pig sty for the rest of the war." His harsh gaze fastened on Klink long enough to make him squirm. "Keep these enemies of the Third Reich secure. Heil Hitler." With the traditional Nazi salute, both agents left, the very image of nasty impatience.

Klink came around the end of his desk to peer closer at Hogan's face. "Are... are you in need of medical attention, Hogan?" It was clear that he was uncomfortable and Hogan had to struggle not to smile.

"I'm fine, kommandant." Hogan sighed heavily and reached up to touch his swollen eye. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is." He tried to look tired and cowed. "I really would like to just go lie down and rest. Those Abwehr are brutes." He really wanted to go check in with his men and pass on all of the information he'd picked up during the meetings with the Underground.

Klink nodded. "Yes, yes... but you will make it clear to your men that it was not my fault, yes? I mean, not that I am soft on you prisoners but they have been so... restless since the incident with Corporal Newkirk."

Hogan winced. Just what he feared. He had hoped that he could leave camp without anyone causing trouble but he should have known Newkirk would pull some sort of stunt. Well, he sighed, he would go visit the Englishman in the cooler and at least listen to his side before deciding whether to convince Klink to let him out or not.

"Yes, Kommandant Klink, I'm sure my men will know who to blame." He paused while Klink looked relieved. "I mean..." He enjoyed the growing expression of dismay on the German officer's face. "You did allow them to remove me from the camp without even an advocate from the Luftwaffe... but I'm sure the men won't blame you for all the torture and deprivation I've gone through all this time." He sighed again. "It's not as if they would riot over one of their own, especially their Senior Prisoner... being treated harshly." He looked at Klink earnestly. "I'm sure they'll take into account that you didn't actually hit me yourself." He waited for the tiny bit of hope to appear in Klink's face before adding. "You just let another German officer do it."

Klink had gone pale, Hogan's words accidentally painting the picture of what had happened only a few days before with Newkirk. The prisoners had been so close to an uprising with just the corporal being treated so poorly and this was Colonel Hogan. "Well, I... I could hardly interfere in... in Abwehr business... I mean..."

"Oh sure, sure... you're just a Luftwaffe colonel, the kommandant of the only prisoner camp with a perfect no escape record. It's not as if you couldn't have sent someone to make sure I was treated according to the Geneva Convention." Hogan enjoyed needling Klink but he really did need to get to his men and make sure everything was running smoothly. He frowned slightly. And find out what shenanigans Newkirk had gotten caught at. "At any rate, I will be certain to tell them what happened." He gestured at his eye. "In detail." Hogan's familiar smirk appeared as he headed for the door.

"Hogan!" Klink's protest made him stop at the door. "Uhh... dismissed." He gave a half-hearted salute.

"Thank you, kommandant." Hogan flipped a quick hand up and disappeared through the door. He spared Helga a little moment, giving her a quick kiss and letting her fuss over his bruised eye. She didn't seem as upset over it as he would have expected but he enjoyed the sympathy and petting anyway.

As he crossed the compound, hitching the collar of his jacket up around his ears and nodding greetings to the prisoners who seemed to suddenly all have business near his path, he smiled and made certain that he looked confident and calm. He wanted to make certain that everyone knew that he was back and things were normal and nothing was wrong. The men seemed more anxious than they should have been and he sighed.

Pausing to speak with a few men at a time, he reassured them that he was fine and no, no one was coming to take anyone away and yes, he was back and no, he was just fine and that his bruised eye was only due to an accident. A few of the barracks' chiefs made sure to welcome him back and shoo the others away. "Hey, everything will be fine. Don't worry."

One of the younger men was frowning at him anyway. "I'm glad you're back, sir. You'll make sure about Newkirk, too, right?"

"Yes, I promise, I'll go take care of that too. No problems." Hogan clapped his hands together. "Business as usual, right guys?" He walked away, still smiling but wondering why all the fuss.

Hogan didn't quite reach the barracks before the door opened to spill out Carter and Kinch. Carter rushed him, all smiles as usual and Hogan struggled not to laugh at his puppyish enthusiasm. "Hey guys, I'm back, I'm fine."

Carter nodded. "What happened to your eye? I'm glad you're back, boy, things have really been crazy since you left and Kinch has been taking care of everything but he couldn't stop that Major-General, and LeBeau was so mad but you know that no one can keep Newkirk from doing stuff that he thinks he's got to do and none of us thought the guy would take him away but..."

"Carter, breathe!" Kinch gestured Hogan inside. "Sorry, Colonel, I really did try to keep a lid on things."

Hogan smiled as LeBeau handed him a cup of coffee. "Thanks, LeBeau, I missed your coffee." He smiled ruefully. "You guys aren't going to believe it, but I got this black eye from walking into a door."

Carter blurted out "No, you couldn't have! Someone hit you!"

"Nope, it was dark and I thought I heard someone. I got up and was sneaking to see who it was and smacked my face on the open door. Turned out it was just Johan getting coffee too." He shook his head and sighed at Kinch. "Well, look, Kinch, I'm sure you did your best. But even I can't keep Newkirk from getting into trouble." He chuckled, missing the exchanged looks between his crew. "It's all we can do to keep tabs on the Germans and sabotage the war, we can't keep him on a leash too." Now he laughed outright. "Maybe I need to call London for a team just to do that." He turned to Kinch and the others. He noticed none of them were laughing along with him, not even Carter. "What?"

Olson hopped off his bunk and came over. "Newkirk was taken away by a German Army Major-General." He looked at the others. "After they beat him. Newkirk didn't do anything wrong. The Kraut was just here to get his jollies beating prisoners."

"Wait..." Hogan's brain suddenly clicked all the facts together. "Newkirk isn't in the cooler for some prank?"

"No, boy... I mean, sir, Newkirk isn't even in camp!" said Carter.

Kinch cleared his throat. "We couldn't stop the guy, he threatened to shoot Newkirk, and to shoot any prisoner who got in his way. There just wasn't time. But it's okay, sir... we..."

Hogan interrupted, heading directly for the false bunk. "It's not okay! If that Major-General figures out Newkirk is part of an Underground operation we could all be sunk! We have to alert the Underground and see if they can track them down... contact London and find out any information on this officer..."

"Sir!" Kinch grabbed his arm to stop him. "We took care of it. We did all that and then I got Burkhalter involved and the general found them."

LeBeau spoke up quickly. "Oui! And now Burkhalter is bringing Newkirk back tomorrow when he comes to inspect the camp."

Carter nodded at them both. "And Burkhalter's aide said that Major-General Hendrich won't be bothering anyone again."

"I'm pretty sure that Hendrich is either on his way to the Russian Front or dead." said Kinch firmly. "His aide didn't say as much, but I got the impression that the 'not bothering' was because it was a permanent solution from Burkhalter."

Olson snorted. "Good riddance."

Hogan looked from one man to another in confusion. "Wait, you... I mean, I don't... it's all taken care of?" He took a deep breath. "Okay, someone tell me exactly what happened here!"

Kinch looked around and then stepped forward. "Well, sir, it started when…

* * *

Driving to Stalag 5 took longer than Newkirk would have thought. The roads had been bombed out in so many places that long detours were needed. By the time Burkhalter's car was passed through the front gates, it was late in the afternoon. Looking around the unfamiliar camp, Newkirk was more grateful than ever for Hogan and Stalag 13. The guards were coldly efficient and the thin prisoners that were out in the open were huddled in dirty clothing that wasn't sufficient for the weather. He saw sullen looks directed towards the staffcar but little interest. In contrast to Stalag 13, there was barbed wire between the actual prisoners and the administration area.

The bleakness brought back all his memories of the first camps he'd passed through and he scrunched further down in the seat. It did him no good as they pulled up in front of a large building that was obviously the kommandantur. Burkhalter got out to be greeted by the kommandant's aide and sergeant of the guard. The tall spare kommandant himself came out quickly to meet the general. The small group immediately moved away, Burkhalter being led to inspect the barracks first.

Herman ordered Newkirk out. "Raus... raus!" The guard jerked him out and shoved him along, complaining about how slow and stupid he was. He was joined by one of the stalag's sergeants who laughed and joked with Herman about the POW.

The Brit was taken to the cooler which made him sigh in relief quietly. If they had put him in a barracks, he would have worried more about the kommandant poaching himself a new prisoner. Burkhalter's promise would mean little, he was sure. One stalag would be just as well to the general. He was given a rough shove into a cell but made no protest about the treatment. Newkirk wasn't stupid and these were not their tame guards.

Herman grinned at him through the bars. "Stay Englander!" He turned to leave with the sergeant. "I hope the general leaves him here. He is stupid and nothing but trouble." Their voices faded as they left him to the cooler guards. Those were giving him a careful look.

Newkirk sighed heavily. He seemed to be doing a lot of waiting. Remembering how the journey had begun with Hendrich and Otto... he stretched as best as he could. Being bored and waiting wasn't so bad. It would give him a chance to go over his precious information again and again. Exhaustion was making things too fuzzy and he feared he would begin forgetting the details. Time to rehearse in his head would help.

And he had nothing else to do. He started to sit down in a corner and one of the guards stepped over to bang on the bars loudly. "Nein. No sitting." Newkirk stood back up and as an experiment, leaned on the back wall. "Nein!" The guard gestured with annoyance until Newkirk was standing in the middle of the bare cell. "Ja, stay."

"Ja, stay." repeated Newkirk tiredly. It was back to the old routine where a prisoner wasn't allowed to rest during the day. In theory it was one way to make certain that prisoners were too tired to plot or dig tunnels or climb fences during the dark of night when they were allowed to rest and sleep. In truth, it was a cruel game played by guards who enjoyed making their prisoners as miserable as possible. Out in the camp, not laying on the bunks during the day was easier, with space out in the compound to walk about and visit with other prisoners, play cards or work on projects. In the bare cold cells in the cooler, it was torment to have to stand there with nothing to do and no one to talk to and nothing to even look at. The only plus of being chucked into Stalag 13's cooler so often was Newkirk got to catch up on his sleep. Here, that obviously wasn't going to be an option.

He took a breath and reminded himself that things could be worse. He tried to relax and settle into an 'at ease' pose that would allow him to half-doze without falling over. He'd done it so often during training in the RAF that even his sergeant had given up on reprimanding him unless he started to snore. It served just as well here in Germany.

* * *

End Chapter

Thank you for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

chapter 20

Hogan paced the length of the barracks and back twice before he spoke. "What if Burkhalter shows up tomorrow with no Newkirk?"

LeBeau frowned from where he sat on the table. "He will be here. Burkhalter's aide said so."

Hogan snorted. "It's General Burkhalter, he's got a short temper and if Newkirk says the wrong thing, then he's going to end up shot."

Kinch stood to one side with his arms folded. "If Burkhalter murders Newkirk, he knows that he'd be in trouble. And if he did decide to murder Newkirk, there's nothing that we can do to prevent it."

Carter began to wring his hands. "But he won't! He won't have any reason to hurt Newkirk! He has to bring him back here."

Hogan rubbed a hand over his face. "Carter, he's still a Nazi and he could just up and decide that it's too much trouble and dump Newkirk in a labor camp. Or.." He paced away again. "Or he's inspecting other camps, what am I supposed to do if he just leaves Newkirk at a different camp?"

Hopping off the table and going to pull out his pot to begin working on soup, LeBeau spoke calmly. "If Burkhalter leaves Newkirk at the wrong stalag, then you will convince Klink to have him transferred back here. Burkhalter might be a dirty pig of a Nazi but he wouldn't want to have the Red Cross looking too closely at him over a missing prisoner and he knows that if Newkirk disappears, you will start a huge fuss with the Red Cross and the representatives from Switzerland and everyone else that can cause him trouble. So it's easier for him to just bring Newkirk back here." The Frenchman's tone was casual and firm but the viciousness he put into chopping up potatoes belied that calmness.

Giving in, Hogan nodded. "You're right, LeBeau." He reached to pat the Frenchman's arm. "Newkirk will be fine and Burkhalter will bring him tomorrow. There's no good reason for him not to, and several reasons for him to not harm him at this point. Burkhalter always looks out for his own interests first."

Kinch agreed quietly. "Yeah, either way, we'll know tomorrow. Things can get back to normal." He held up his wrist. "I'm almost beginning to expect to see my watch every time I look for it, and that's just not normal when Newkirk is around!"

Carter grinned. "Yeah and I haven't seen a magic trick in forever."

Olson coughed softly, bringing everyone's attention to him and his wry smile. "And... the guards are beginning to think they're supposed to have so many cigarettes. None have been disappearing from their pockets."

Hogan laughed. "Well, see, that tears it. Newkirk will have to come back tomorrow. He's probably enjoying good food and wine with Burkhalter while we worry over him. He'll have charmed those Germans into letting him eat at the officer's table and if they don't watch out, he'll leave with half their pay from playing poker games."

Everyone had a little bit of a laugh, even if a few were slightly uneasy still. There was no reason to worry over Newkirk, after all, the Cockney was well able to finagle his way through most situations just fine.

* * *

Newkirk grimaced as he lay on the cement floor reaching through the bars as far as he was able. "Blimey... this isn't funny guys!" The 'dinner' he'd been brought was a metal cup of watery soup but the guards had decided to play a game of setting it just out of his reach. They'd put bets down on how close they could set it to the bars but have it still be out of his reach.

The two cooler guards continued to laugh, exchanging small bills as one won a bet from the other. Newkirk twisted and stretched further, feeling the burning pain of his injured rib as he did so. The manacles that had never been removed forced him to use both arms, increasing the difficulty. But his fingertips brushed the edge of the cup sitting on the floor just barely out of his reach. "Bloody gits... "

The guard who had won stepped over and leaned down to grin at him. Newkirk jerked his arms back to safety behind the bars. "Englander, you do not want your dinner?" His boot nudged the cup just a fraction closer to taunt him. "Come, take it. You are not hungry?" He laughed harshly as he turned back to his fellow guard. "Maybe he doesn't want it."

"Bloody bastard Krauts." Newkirk glared up at them. He hadn't eaten since the evening before. Sitting back, he undid his belt, hunching over to hide his actions. They were both still chuckling to each other over their fun prank. Scooting to the bars again, he looked to be certain they weren't paying attention and slipped his arms back through the bars and quickly flipped a loop of belt over the cup and dragged it within easy reach, grabbing it and pulling to himself just before the riflebutt smashed into the bars with a loud clang. He stood up quickly, drinking the rancid soup down in case they opened the cell to take it back.

Both guards cursed at him and then began to argue whether his trick had negated the bet or whether the winner had to give back the money since the prisoner had managed to get the cup in the end. While the argument branched out to whether one moving the cup closer mattered or not, Newkirk finished off the cold slimy potato wash and wiped a finger around the inside of the cup to catch every drop. He'd eaten worse food and wasn't about to waste any. It was highly unlikely the guards would fall for that trick a second time.

His keen eyes watched the guards argue and he wondered how long it would be before he was allowed to lie down and sleep. One more night and one more car ride and he should be back in Stalag 13. He watched the guards and recited his lines of information in his head and tried to feel positive.

A tiny part of him cataloged how many miles of ditches there were on that drive and resolved to keep his mouth shut around Burkhalter.


	21. Chapter 21

Final chapter! Okay, so there is an epilogue too, but yes, the story is coming to a end. Chapter 20 was a bit short, because just before posting I decided I needed to rewrite some of this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 21

At Stalag 13, the morning roll call had gone remarkably well. With Hogan firmly back in control of the prisoners, Klink could relax slightly. It led to a long-winded speech about last minute cleaning and tasks around the camp and a caution for all the prisoners to be on their best behavior for the general's visit. Normally Hogan would already have some sort of scheme going to discredit Klink or get information. This time all he wanted was to get Newkirk back safely.

By midday, anticipation was making the men restless all over again. Hogan sent his team out to reassure everyone and privately lamented the fact that the missing one was also one of the best at lightening the mood in the camp. Without the cheeky Newkirk around to pull pranks and tweak the German guards, it was a bit harder for Hogan to keep the positive mood intact.

When Burkhalter's car appeared at the gate, there was a rush to get the information directly to Hogan and he was all but shoved out of the barracks towards the kommandantur. Before he was halfway across the compound, the general and his aide were exiting the car and prisoners were drifting in that direction as subtly as possible. LeBeau appeared at Hogan's elbow and gave him a push.

"Hurry! Do they have Newkirk?" The Frenchman was giving him little pats and shoves in an attempt to make him walk faster.

Hogan tried to gesture for him to wait and was ignored. "LeBeau, go back to the barracks." Kinch walked up, hands deep in his jacket pockets trying to look casual. Hogan rolled his eyes. "Guys, you can't go in with me."

"We're not, we... uhh..." Kinch tried to think of a good reason to be there.

Carter's voice piped up from behind Hogan. "We just want to see Newkirk!"

Hogan sighed and exchanged a look with Kinch. "Take them back to the barracks."

They all turned as a series of shouts erupted from several prisoners at once. Hogan twisted in time to see Newkirk stepping out of the car, one of Burkhalter's guards pulling him towards the offices impatiently. Newkirk raised his hands at the other prisoners to reassure them, inadvertently showing that he was in chains. The bruises covering more than half of his face startled Hogan, although no one else seemed to react.

Kinch elbowed LeBeau and reached to corral Carter as well. "Come on, Louis, I bet Newkirk will appreciate tea when he gets to come to the barracks." He shooed them towards the barracks, motioning for the nearer prisoners to back off as well.

Hogan continued to the offices, thanking all the powers that he had a second-in-command as competent as Kinch. Newkirk hadn't waited, although his guard didn't seem to give him an option anyway. By the time Hogan burst through Klink's office door with his usual blasé, everyone was arrayed in the room.

"Colonel Klink, I just needed a moment..." Hogan paused in his usual mock surprise, becoming slightly startled when two armed guards turned on him. "Easy boys... Colonel Hogan, Senior POW here... I was just coming to check on my man."

"Stand down." Burkhalter almost looked pleased to see Hogan, in contrast to Klink who was trying to gesture the American back out. "Colonel Hogan... what happened to your eye? First I find this one in such a state and now you as well? Klink, have you been brutalizing the POWs?" The evident humor in Burkhalter's voice made it clear to everyone with half a brain that he was joking.

Klink, predictably, paniced and began to protest. "Of course not, General Burkhalter, I would never abuse the prisoners, herr general."

Newkirk spoke up brightly from the far corner. "Of course not, herr general, Kommandant Klink just loans us out for other officers to brutalize."

"Quiet you!" Klink shook a fist at Newkirk who cowered away theatrically. Klink paled and jerked his hand down, looking at the general in dismay. "I promise you, General Burkhalter, I have always abided by the letter of the law! I follow the Geneva Convention. Didn't I call you for assistance as soon as I realized that Major-General Hendrich was abusing his position?"

"Would've been better if you 'ad reported 'im as soon as he was abusing the prisoners, in my mind." quipped Newkirk.

Burkhalter turned a glare towards the Englishman. "That will be quite enough from you."

"Yes, herr general, apologies, herr general." Newkirk cast his eyes on the floor and stood quietly.

Now the general turned to Hogan with a sigh. "I suppose I should return your corporal to you, Colonel Hogan. He has behaved quite well, overall." Burkhalter turned to eye the corporal for a second. "I would not suggest you give him leave to speak freely however."

Hogan affected a surprised expression. "You mean he asked permission before he spoke freely? I can't usually get him to shut up." Hogan leaned in to speak in a stage whisper. "What's your secret? How'd you get him to not talk back to you?"

Burkhalter leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air. "I intimidate him." When Hogan made a sound of disbelief, Burkhalter elaborated. "I threatened to shoot him."

Hogan beamed and looked around to Newkirk. "I can do that. Newkirk, you'll behave or I'll shoot you!"

Newkirk seemed less than amused as he deadpanned back at his commanding officer. "You can't threaten to shoot me, you don't 'ave a gun."

Hogan's face fell and he turned to Klink. "Sir, request permission to carry a gun! I promise only to use it to intimidate Newkirk!"

"Request denied! Hogan, get out of my office!" Klink was trying to take control of his office again.

Pouting slightly, Hogan turned back to Burkhalter. "With your permission, general, I'll take custody of Corporal Newkirk. Even if he is cheeky, we've gotten rather used to having him around." He motioned to Newkirk's bound wrists. "You can keep the chains though, we have plenty of those."

Chuckling, Burkhalter motioned to the more stocky guard to free the Englishman. "Gladly. I will be well rid of him, he's a pest." He eyed Newkirk for a moment as he was being unchained. "I have kept my promise, so we are even, yes, corporal? You saved my life and I brought you back to Stalag 13."

"Yes herr general, thank you." Newkirk's eyes flicked from Burkhalter to Hogan and back, hoping the colonel wouldn't mention anything.

Hogan narrowed his eyes. "Wait, he saved your life? He..." Hogan's finger pointed at a chastened Newkirk. "Saved your..." The finger traveled to point at the general. "Life? As in he acted to save you?"

"Blimey, General Burkhalter, I did ask you not to tell Colonel Hogan and now you've gone and gotten me in trouble! Now 'e's going to court martial me and shoot me!" protested Newkirk.

Burkhalter looked very satisfied. "Colonel Hogan can't shoot you. He doesn't have a gun, remember?"

Brightening, Newkirk accepted that. "Oh. Right-o then!" He started across the room and stopped to look at the guard who'd been next to him. "One question, herr general?" He pointed at the guard. "What IS 'is name, anyway? 'e never would tell me."

Burkhalter looked at the guard with confusion and then back at Newkirk. "His name is Hermann."

Newkirk's lips twitched slightly. He blinked and looked at Herman and then back at Burkhalter. "Heh..." The slight chuckle became an outright laugh rather quickly.

He was still laughing when Hogan took him by an arm to push him out of the office. "I'll just take him... obviously, it's been a terrible strain on the poor man... he's gone hysterical..."

The aide spoke for the first time since Hogan had walked in. "No, no.. he's much _much_ louder when he's hysterical."

"Yes well..." Hogan shoved the corporal through the door. "With your permission, kommandant... general..." He dodged through and shut the door behind them. "Shhh..."

"Sorry..." Newkirk didn't seem all that sorry. "It's just..." He waved both hands about elaborately. "Herman! Ha..."

"You know, Newkirk, I did miss you." Hogan drew him in close as they left the offices and headed across the compound. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"You don't look all that stellar yourself, sir." Newkirk looked at his black eye. "Who punched you?"

"I walked into a door. Who punched you?" Hogan was eyeing the brilliant colors of bruising across the man's face.

"Oh... everyone." Newkirk smiled, and even though it was crooked, it was almost the same sarcastic Cockney as always.

"Well, you're going to have to tell me the whole story and we'll make sure it doesn't happen again." said Hogan grimly.

"Can't... he's bloody well dead. Hendrich and Otto both. Burkhalter 'ad them both shot." Newkirk's face went still as he spoke and Hogan decided not to press him right away about what had happened regarding that.

"Okay, we'll talk about that later... right now, there's some people who want to see you." Hogan opened the barracks door and stepped back to let everyone inside mob their friend. He felt just a little bit like a fraud, bringing the lost sheep back into the fold as if he'd had anything to do with the whole thing. But not one of the team seemed concerned.

The mass of voices clamored at the Englishman, mixing questions with welcomes and cheerful insults alike. Newkirk stepped backwards, startled by the people rushing at him and trying to cover his fear. A hand on his back let Hogan feel the mild tremor before he controlled it.

Hogan flipped his free hand at the crowd, smiling as he shooed at them. "Settle down, guys. Don't knock the poor guy down. Make a space at the table."

Newkirk twisted to look at him as he was helpfully shoved onto the bench. "Colonel! I need some paper! Burkhalter 'as been meeting with all kinds of German officials and I've got so much information in me head! I need to write it all down!"

Hogan immediately snapped fingers at the other POWs. "Someone get him pen and paper. Pipe down, don't distract him until he gets this stuff written down." He glanced over to the door but Olson had already gone to crack it open to stand watch.

Before Hogan could ask questions about what sort of information it was, Olson spoke up quietly. "Sir… Burkhalter is making that inspection tour."

Hogan grabbed up his cap that he'd set aside. "Time for me to go play with the Germans a little. Kinch, take whatever he writes and get it in code. If we head for Barracks 2, dump it all into the tunnel and act innocent." He stepped outside quickly. Putting on both his crush cap and his clueless cheerful expression, he headed for the little group of German officers. "Hey, can I help?" Inwardly, he enjoyed the looks of annoyance from his captors. Outwardly, his expression never changed, the eager harmless POW who always seemed to be in the way, apologizing each time. Hogan would manage to steer the group away from the sensitive areas of his operation.

H H H H

It was Carter who dodged away and brought the requested paper and pencil. Newkirk didn't even thank him, just sat at the table and began to write as quickly as possible. "I 'ave all this information up in my 'ead." The pencil tapped against his own temple. "I just 'ave to write it down or I'll start forgetting it all and I can't sleep because I keep forgetting bits if I sleep!"

Carter nodded, trying to understand. "Okay, what do you need from..."

Newkirk waved his hands frantically over his head and bent back over his paper, writing even more quickly. "Shhh shhhh! You're gonna mix me all up!" His eyes glued to the paper, he filled the first sheet and shoved it aside to begin on the next sheet. He mumbled under his breath, stopping and starting over repeatedly.

Kinch took one of the filled pages and then let out a soft whistle. "These are the plans for troops movements in this entire sector... and here's a list of all the supply routes..." His eyes flicked over to see Newkirk push aside another full page and Carter took it quietly to bring over. A few seconds to scan it and Kinch took a breath. "We need to get this in code to get all of this to London." He turned to Olson manning the barracks door watching for guards. "If anyone heads this way, sound off, we'd all be shot if the Krauts catch us with this stuff written down." Kinch settled to begin transcribing the information into code.

Carter stepped away, unsure how to help and even less sure that Newkirk wanted him anywhere near him still. He could see the lines of exhaustion written on the Englishman's face as he frantically wrote out the notes. His lips moved as he muttered under his breath.

LeBeau silently put a cup of broth next to Newkirk's elbow and watched him pick it up to drink absently while still writing with his other hand. The bruises showed up rather starkly but as he had a further chance to look, most of them had already begun to fade to different colors.

The Frenchman moved to stand by Carter looking worried. "He looks exhausted."

Carter agreed quietly. "But at least he's back. That's the important part."

H H H H

Later that day, after seeing the general and his entourage out of the main gate, Hogan returned to find Newkirk hunched even lower over the table. The pencil's frantic scratching had slowed and he was faltering. He scribbled a few words and his head drooped lower for a moment before he jerked it up again and the pencil scratched out another phrase or two before stuttering to stop again.

Kinch headed down into the tunnel to begin sending the tactical information to London at a gesture from Hogan. When Newkirk's eyes closed and his face sagged down far enough that his nose nearly touched the paper, Carter's face turned to Hogan with a pleading expression.

Hogan nodded reassuringly. He reached to put one hand on Newkirk's shoulder as gently as possible. Newkirk's head jerked slightly and Hogan bent to speak softly. "Shhh, it's alright. It's all done. You're done, you wrote all of it down." He didn't know that for certain, but he could see the last half page of writing was nonsense and Newkirk was short-circuiting his brain trying to squeeze some last information out of it. "Relax, you're done with it. You did just fine."

"Sorry..." mumbled Newkirk as he gave in and rested his face on the table. "Sorry guv'ner... tried... I t-think... I don't..." His voice faded as his body relaxed into a limp heap. "Don't..."

Hogan smiled as Newkirk began to snore softly. He reached to slide the last paper out from under him and handed it off to Carter. "Take it to Kinch, tell him to send whatever he can make sense of."

"Yessir..." Carter rushed to obey, climbing down into the tunnel quickly.

LeBeau bent to look at the sleeping face. "Mon colonel, we should put him to bed. He's so exhausted."

"Yeah, we can just get him into Carter's bunk. I have the feeling he's going to sleep for days." With Olson and LeBeau's assistance, Hogan gently sat Newkirk upright and then tilted him back to lift his torso while they got his legs untangled from the bench. Getting him laid out in Carter's lower bunk, Hogan stepped back and let LeBeau cover him with a blanket. The relaxed face reassured Hogan that he was sleeping peacefully for now.

LeBeau stepped back. "We should get his jacket off later on if he doesn't wake up." He frowned and reached back in to tilt Newkirk's face to the side and examined him. "I don't think any of these are fresh. But he had a broken rib when Hendrich took him away."

Hogan nodded. "We'll let Wilson look him over. At least right now, Newkirk isn't likely to protest an exam."

LeBeau nodded and tried to smile at the quip. "I will go bring him here, mon colonel." He slipped out of the barracks.

Olson settled at the table and looked at Hogan. "Well, sir, it's been a very exciting week or two and I for one think we all need a few days off." He tilted his head at the barracks door. "Don't let LeBeau fool you either, sir. He's been worrying himself sick. Once old Newkirk is up and about again, there's going to be some very loud shouting matches between them two."

Hogan smiled. "That'll be a sound for sore ears, Olson. It'll be a sign things really are back to normal."

* * *

End

There will also be a epilogue. Thank you all for sticking with this all the way to the end.


	22. Chapter 22

Epilogue

And now it is the end. It's been a wild ride but all good things must come to an end eventually. My most gracious thanks go out to my long suffering beta TinySprite. Also, my thanks to the Twitter crew for encouragement and help, my friend River who listened to endless conversations about plot and all the Hogan's Heroes fandom and authors who assisted along the way.

And to all you readers, you're most appreciated. The ones who review, I cherish every time you shared your thoughts.

And now, the epilogue.

* * *

LeBeau had fretted for two days. Wilson had done an exam, rewrapped the Englishman's ribs and vehemently cursed anyone who would harm one of his patients. Hogan and Kinch had gotten everything in the camp running smoothly again and gotten all the POWs reassured that all was back to normal operations. Schultz had dropped in frequently, expressing his pleasure that all of his 'boys' were back in the stalag where they belonged and there was a distinct lack of monkey business going on. Even Klink had gotten smug and pleased as his prisoners had gone back to being tame and easily controlled. Carter spent most of his time hovering near his friend.

Newkirk slept. And slept and slept a bit more. He slept right through the first evening roll call, propped up on Carter's shoulder in the formation next to Hogan. He slept through mealtimes, only drinking down soup when LeBeau put the cup to his mouth and shouted insults at him to wake him enough to swallow. He'd fallen asleep standing for an evening roll call and managed to end up propped against Schultz's broad back so the guard didn't dare move until Klink dismissed them all. Carter had saved him from drowning in his tea twice when he fell asleep sitting at the barracks table. After that second near-fatal cup of tea, they stood him up for roll call and fed him his soup and left him to the bunk in between.

Wilson straightened up from listening to Newkirk's heartbeat and breathing. "He sounds okay. Just exhaustion, guys. His breathing is a lot stronger today and he should start staying awake longer. Just don't let him overdo it at first, okay?"

Hogan snorted. "Overdo it? He doesn't do anything at all."

"His body needs rest. It won't heal properly if he's still exhausted." Wilson's frown made even Hogan squirm just a little. "If you need him for some scheme, I'd suggest that you find someone else. He's not able to do anything strenuous."

Frowning back at the medic, Hogan protested. "I'm not pushing for him to do anything. We're just all worried, that's all."

"Well, stop worrying. He'll recover." Wilson snapped his medical bag shut and left, still acting grumpy over the whole situation.

Carter took his usual seat on the bench closest to his bunk, peering at his friend for a few seconds as if Wilson would have hurt him somehow. "Don't take it personally, sir. Sergeant Wilson doesn't mean all that. He's just mad that he couldn't make Major-General Hendrich leave Newkirk alone in the first place. He doesn't mean to say you'd do anything wrong. He was really mad when Hendrich took him away right after he'd just wrapped up his broken rib again. Boy, he cursed every German in the camp over it. I didn't even know he knew cursewords in German but he sure gave everyone a piece of his mind." Carter didn't even notice Hogan smiling at how he was rambling on. "He even yelled at Langenscheidt and you know, everyone kind of likes Langenscheidt. I mean, for a German, he's a pretty good guy. Not as good as if he weren't a German of course..."

There was a tired sounding grumble from the bunk. "Caaarter... shut up."

Carter jumped to his feet. "Newkirk? Are you awake?"

One hand pushed the blanket aside clumsily and Newkirk's face appeared, looking around blearily. "Who could bloody well sleep through your nattering away?" The hand weakly grasped at the corner post of the bunk as Newkirk made his first attempt to sit up.

Hogan reached to help him with an arm around his back. "Here, let me help you up, old bean." Instead of just sitting up, Newkirk managed to lever himself to his feet and staggered the one step to fall onto the bench at the table. "Coffee?" asked Hogan.

"Who made it?"

Hogan smiled as he poured the tin cup full. "LeBeau."

Newkirk grunted. "I'll take some anyway."

"You're welcome." Hogan handed over the cup and watched him drink down half of it in one gulp.

Newkirk started to tip over and Carter pushed him upright again. Newkirk glared in his direction vaguely. "Sod off."

"Sorry..." Carter stood up and wrung his hands, his joy at Newkirk waking up vanishing as he remembered his friend's orders to stay away from him. "I didn't think you'd still want... I mean, since you got back."

Newkirk blinked up at him standing there. "Where's me bloody cards?"

"What?" Carter stopped.

"Me cards... the deck of cards? Little bits of ruddy paper with numbers and 'earts and clubs on them? Where are they?" snapped Newkirk at the young American.

"Oh... I..." Carter turned and climbed half up onto Newkirk's usual bunk where he'd been sleeping himself. Fumbling about a moment, he brought down the deck of cards from a nitch in the wall. "Here... I put them away for you because I knew you'd want them when you got back."

Newkirk took them irritably and checked the deck briefly before shuffling them once. "Too bloody right I want them." He patted his pockets for a few seconds and turned a new glare on Carter.

Without even asking, Carter went back to the shelves to hand over a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Newkirk grunted as he lit up a cigarette and blinked a bit, looking at the barracks. His bruises were half faded away by now and almost all of the swelling had disappeared.

Carter waited for a few seconds looking downcast. "Okay, well, I'll go... I know you don't want me around." He turned to leave.

Newkirk snorted loudly. "What? 'ow can I play gin if you're not 'ere to cheat me?" He turned a rather sallow glare on Carter who was staring back at him. "Come on, sit down and let's 'ave a go at a 'and of gin." He started dealing the cards out between them.

Carter wasted no time in flinging himself down on the opposite bench, smiling widely. "I really missed you a lot, Newkirk. I'm glad you're back."

Newkirk grunted again but his eyes fastened on Carter for just a few seconds longer than was strictly needed to convey his own thoughts. "Glad to be back, mate." His lips twitched upwards slightly. "Thanks, Andrew."

Hogan went to trigger the false bunk and climb down into the tunnels. He wanted to check for reports from London.

* * *

An hour later, Hogan came up from the tunnel looking pleased. "Well..." He stepped over to the table, making Carter look up with curiosity. "Just got confirmation from London. Newkirk, your intel was almost one hundred percent correct and will be invaluable to Allied troop distribution."

Newkirk looked up from his cards and frowned slightly. "Almost a hundred percent, sir? What did I mess up?" He looked distressed over not having it all perfect.

"You were really tired, buddy. No one could have gotten it all right." said Carter.

Newkirk scowled. "I still should 'ave gotten it all right."

Hogan smiled. "Well I wouldn't say it was so much that you got anything wrong so much as there's no way to confirm whether Burkhalter prefers his weinerschnitzel spicy or not. And that's apparently the last thing you wrote on the notes."

"Oh." Newkirk's attention returned to his cards. "Well, I was pretty tired, it was hard to separate what was important." The smugness was back in his tone.

"Yes, well once we got done with London, we got a very interesting report..." Hogan leaned over to Newkirk who studiously ignored him. "A report from the Underground." His arm landed softly across Newkirk's shoulders. "It seems that the SS picked up four of our Underground agents." Newkirk had frozen. Hogan's smile was firmly in place as he drew the Brit in closer to continue. "Luckily they were rescued."

Carter was following the conversation and exclaimed excitedly. "That's great! Boy, I bet those guys were relieved!"

Newkirk fiddled with his hand of cards. "Yes. I uuhhhh... good thing someone rescued them then." His eyes were fixed on the cards but he could feel Hogan's stare.

Carter happily continued. "I wonder who it was? Another Underground agent?"

Newkirk sniffed a little and waved a hand dismissively. "Probably never find out. The important thing is that those agents were freed."

Hogan's arm tightened. "Oh I don't know. There's a lot of clues. For one, he picked the lock on the door to the basement they were being held in."

"Hey! Just like Newkirk!" Carter smiled.

"Yes, just like him. And then he managed to unlock all the chains in a remarkably short time too." Hogan's arm was now holding Newkirk close to him.

"Wow, that's exactly like you, Newkirk! I never saw anyone pick a lock as fast as you can." Carter seemed pleased at this unknown agent's abilities.

Newkirk cleared his throat slightly. "Yeah, well... there's probably a lot of lockpicks around." Newkirk attempted to slide sideways but Hogan tugged him back.

The colonel bent to speak directly to the Englishman. "Would you care to guess the last clue?" When Newkirk looked aside, Hogan continued. "He was not only English, he was in a RAF uniform. Now... who could possibly meet all those qualifications?"

Newkirk twisted to look up at his commanding officer. "Sir, I can explain, really! I mean 'onestly, what else could I do? They were going to torture information out of them and what if they knew about Papa Bear? I 'ad to get them out."

Hogan frowned. "While you were already in a compromised position, and under the guard of a general, no less? So you decided to be a hero and rescue four people being held by elite SS troops? This seemed like a good idea? What made you come up with such a crazy idea?"

Newkirk met his eyes with a smirk. "I thought to myself, 'Newkirk you old sod, what would Colonel Hogan do?' and the plan just came to me."

Hogan rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You give me more grey hairs than the rest of the team combined." He shook a finger. "In fact, you give me more grey hairs than the Germans AND the rest of the team combined!"

Carter was staring at them both. "Wait... Newkirk rescued the agents? While we were all worrying over whether you were even alive? And you were doing a mission that you came up with all by yourself? And you didn't get killed doing it even though you thought up the plan all by yourself?"

"Thanks for the bleeding vote of confidence, Carter." Newkirk grumbled under his breath and went back to looking at his cards.

"Well, you're just crazy!" Carter seemed a little outraged. "We were really worried and you were doing even MORE dangerous stuff than we were even thinking." He settled back down. "But it is kind of cool that you did it too. How did you do it? Where was General Burkhalter, and how come you didn't get caught?"

Newkirk smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. He pulled a card out of his hand and placed it, drawing a new one. "Well, I was up in Burkhalter's 'otel room, on the fourth floor see? The guard in the room fell asleep so I climbed out the window and down the wall, which was no easy thing, mind you. Only someone with extreme skill and strength and a steady mind could possibly 'ave pulled it off."

Hogan was smiling now. "But _you_ managed..."

Cutting his eyes over in an annoyed way, Newkirk cleared his throat. "ANYway... I knocked the SS guard out cold, got the agents out of the room and they took off, took the SS goon with them too. Then I climbed back up the bloody wall but the guard 'ad woken up and so I couldn't climb back in the window. I tell you, I thought I was sunk!"

Carter shifted his weight and edged closer to the table. "Wow... how did you get back in?"

"I 'ad to wait, and 'ang there until they found out them agents were all gone. So a SS goon showed up at the room and Burkhalter's guard stepped out to argue and I got in the window and acted like I'd been there the whole time. So when the SS lieutenant came in and grabbed me..." Newkirk was fully involved in his story when Hogan interrupted.

"What? You were in the hands of the SS? Why didn't you tell me?" asked Hogan hotly.

"Well I've been ruddy sleeping, 'aven't I? Anyway, since Burkhalter's guards thought I'd been in the room with them the whole time, there wasn't a lot the SS could do." Newkirk sniffed disdainfully. "If it weren't for me grand acting abilities, and me equally grand skills at burglary, them agents would be in Berlin right now, spilling all their secrets." He scowled up at Hogan. "I think I deserve a bit of praise for all that, instead of being yelled at, I do."

Hogan sighed now. "You deserve to have your head examined."

"Wilson already did that." replied Newkirk casually. "Didn't find a thing."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." quipped Hogan, eliciting a new frown from Newkirk. "Good job all around, old bean but try to not get into life-threatening situations for a few days, okay?"

"For you, sir..." Newkirk took a long drag on his cigarette and let it trail out before he turned to smirk at his commanding officer. "For you, I'll stay out of trouble for a whole week."

* * *

The End

(Of this fic, I have more stories to post soon)

Thanks for reading!


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